


The Curious Haunting of Will Graham

by justheretoreadhannibalfics



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Cannon Divergent, M/M, Sort of Psychic, Will sees dead people, not very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretoreadhannibalfics/pseuds/justheretoreadhannibalfics
Summary: Will sees dead people.Being smart and making connections can only get you so far. It helps when the dead are literally attaching themselves to you, and you can talk to them to find out what happened before and after they died. Working with the FBI is all fun and games until you have ghosts tormenting you every day of your life.





	1. Obligations

Will woke and looked up into the soft brown eyes of Buster. The little dog had always had a hard time following the rules, and Will couldn't bring himself to drill him about the bed.

Will swung his legs over the mattress and scratched Buster between the ears as he looked around at his little pack.

The dogs all perked their ears up and watched him expectantly.

Will sighed with a smile and stood up. He walked to the back door and opened it, letting the dogs all push around his legs and run outside. They spread out to do their business and sniff around at the plants and rocks. Will watched as they all ignored the spot as usual. The dogs had avoided walking up to or around the tree closest to the back of the house for three years now, and it was something they had all grown used to.

Will studied the tree and saw no one there, so he smiled to himself and sighed heavily. 

Buster walked up to Will and started licking at the floor of the doorway. Will quickly shooed him away and checked the salt line. He poured a bit more along the entrance for good measure and reprimanded Buster for breaking one of the protection rules.

Will got ready for the day and fed the dogs. He checked the salt barriers in all the doors and windows and tested the locks. Then, he stepped out his front door and locked it behind him.

Mara stood by his car as usual, her shoulder-length golden hair unaffected by the breeze. She gave him a solemn nod as he walked up.

Will tried to ignore Gustin as he slid into the car, but he made it difficult as usual.

“Don't forget what you've done,” Gustin said, “don't forget the blood on your hands.”

Will started the car and began his drive into Baltimore. He could hear the voices as he drove away, but most of them faded into silence as the distance grew. Mara sat in the back seat in silence, and Will didn't make any attempt to start a conversation.

When he crossed the city line into Baltimore, Mara vanished, and the air in the car fell into peaceful calm. Will breathed easily for the first time that morning, and pulled up to a shop for some coffee.

\---

“Will. Jack really wants you to help him with a few more cases. I think you should get an eval and help. I want to help you.”

Will set his papers and laptop onto his desk as Alana spoke. She had always tried to get him into a session, wanting to figure out what he was.

“Alana, thanks. I don't really want to help him out anymore than I already have. I made that decision two years ago and I meant it.”

Alana pressed her lovely lips together in disapproval, but nodded sharply. She would have wanted to be Will’s friend if he hadn't met her while talking to a murdered man. He regretted the lost opportunity, because she was one of the only people he had actually grown to respect and really like.

“Even if you don't help Jack, I think you should talk to someone,” she tried again, “therapy can be really good for you, and I really think you could benefit from it.”

Will smiled wryly at her. She always meant well, but her efforts were misplaced when it came to him.

“Thanks. I'll think about it.” 

Alana didn't seem convinced, but she nodded and walked out of the lecture hall just as students began entering. 

Will was grateful daily that the university hadn't cared about his ability when it came to hiring him. He really knew his stuff, so they just told him to stick to the curriculum and leave the ghosts out of it. Will had been happy to oblige.

The students sat, several of them bringing a spirit in with them, and Will once again wondered why they had been attached to people so young. They had never tried anything unsavory in the classroom, so Will was content with leaving them as they were.

When the students began filing out of the classroom, Will saw agent Crawford make his way through the crowd with stubborn determination. Jack stood in front of Will’s desk as he shuffled papers around and tidied up.

“I expect Alana told you I'm not interested,” Will said without looking up.

Jack shifted his weight and cleared his throat.

“She told me you said you'd think about it,” he replied.

Will chuckled. He knew Alana had said no such thing. She was a very frank and honest person.

“I said I'd think about talking to a psychiatrist, not going out into the field again.”

Jack put his hand over the paper Will had begun reaching for, and Will let out a heavy sigh. Jack was not going to take no for an answer. He glanced up to meet Jack’s eye for a beat.

“We need you on this one,” Jack said firmly.

Will shook his head.

“You need a good forensic team and a criminal profiler. I can't help you.”

Jack huffed.

“You have a very particular way of working,” Jack stated, “and that's what we need.”

Will pulled the papers away as Jack lifted his hand to cross his arms.

“There's a lot of talk about the way I work,” Will grumbled, “and I intend to leave it as talk. I don't want to help you, Jack.”

Jack shook his head.

“I didn't want to say this, but you don't really have a choice here. You're coming with me one way or the other, and I'm going to request a psych eval. Come.”

Will sighed, resigning to his fate as he placed the last few papers into his bag and stepped around the desk. He waved forward, bidding Jack to lead the way, and they began the journey to the briefing office.


	2. To Be Sociable

There were no bodies. That was going to be a problem. The people usually hung around the bodies until they found someone to attach to, and Will was a very easy candidate.

All the girls looked similar. The pictures could have almost been the same girl on different days, but each one was a missing person. 

“He's not keeping them around, physically,” Will said, rubbing his brow.

“So we focus on the most recent one?” Jack asked.

Will nodded and took a sip of his coffee. It was room temperature, and mediocre at best, but it served as a good distraction from the man that stood in front of the evidence board.

Something about him was odd, and Will found his gaze repeatedly drawn toward him despite himself. He looked slippery, but Will knew it was in a way that only he could tell. No spirits would be able to attach themselves to him, but there was a whisper of a synthetic attachment about him. Something that he held onto with an iron grip, despite his slippery skin.

The man had been introduced as Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and Jack had said he was going to consult on the profile. Will got the feeling he was also there to try to dig into his head, and that annoyed him.

“If he keeps them for any period of time, she is the most likely to be found alive,” the man agreed.

He walked over and took a seat next to Will.

Will glanced up at him, desperately trying not to meet his eyes.

“Or we might be more likely to find her remains in an incriminating place,” Will mumbled.

The man watched Will for a moment and smiled ever so slightly.

“You're not fond of eye contact,” he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Will grimaced into his mug. He hated psychiatrists, save for Alana.

“Eyes are distracting, and they aren't going to show me what I need to know. I'm not very good at interacting with living people.”

Will glanced up and met the man's eyes to emphasize his point. They were dark brown, but they seemed to glisten red in the light. 

The man smirked when Will had to tear his gaze back down to his cup. 

“I imagine you see much in the eyes of others, and it fills your head with images of lives they live, leaving you with more knowledge than you desire and much more than you need.”

Will huffed.

“So you're not just here for the case,” he shot back, “Jack wants you to try getting into my head to see what you can see. Well, I work strictly quid pro quo when it comes to my mind, so you're in for disappointment.”

Jack was sitting in silence, exuding disapproval and ever on the edge of intervening.

Doctor Lecter smiled and nodded curtly.

“I see no reason to expect anything else of you,” he said.

Will frowned and gathered his things, standing to walk to the door.

“Jack, look into the Nichols girl. Doctor, leave me alone.”

Will stalked out the door and made his way back to his lecture hall. A lesson on psychoanalysis, how appropriate.

\---

“She likes trains,” the father said, despair dripping from his words, “she might have gotten on a train and left, or been taken.”

Will looked at the pictures on the shelf. All happy and alive. There was a soul in the house, lingering after something. Will could sense it like a slight chill in the air from a freezer having been left open in another room.

“Has anyone ever died in this house, as far as you know?” Will asked, trying not to look at the worried parents.

He hated having to say things like that. It made people wonder.

The parents looked at each other with concern and confusion.

“It was new when we moved in,” the father explained, “no one died here.”

Will pressed his lips together and looked up at Jack, who nodded sharply.

“Excuse us for a moment, please,” he said to the parents before he turned and walked into a separate room with Will at his heels.

“What is it?” Jack asked when the parents were out of earshot.

“I think she was taken from here,” Will said, “I think she’s dead now, but I don’t know if she was killed here or after she was taken. I need to see her bedroom, but get the forensics guys in here.”

Jack nodded and called them in. He asked the father to show Will to the room, and Will was left to follow him and try to not act weird enough to make him upset.

The cat was scratching at the door when the father showed it to Will. Will knew what that could mean, but he wanted desperately to be wrong.

“Please hold the cat,” Will said, not looking up to the man, “And try not to touch anything.”

The man shifted his weight anxiously.

“We’ve been in and out of this room all day,” he said.

Will bit his tongue to avoid scolding the man for having done that.

“Still, it’s better if it’s just me,” he offered, extending his gloved hands in surrender.

The man nodded and picked up the cat.

Will readied himself and opened the door.

Stepping in, he knew he had been right, and it was going to be a problem. He turned quickly to keep the father from rushing in past him, and tried not to look at the spirit of the girl, standing at the foot of the bed. She was staring at her own body, having been tucked into the bed with loving hands despite being dead.

“Elise,” the father breathed in horror, staring at the bed as well. He dropped the cat in surprise.

“Jack!” Will shouted, trying to keep the man from contaminating the crime scene even more. The cat walked past his legs and sat next to the girl’s spirit, calm and sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has already read this fic! I really didn't expect it to get much, or any, attention so quickly, so I was ecstatic to see that people liked it! I hope you all keep on liking it as it goes on, and thank you so much for reading. <3


	3. To Be Helpful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another addition to the collection

Elise Nichols was a very sweet girl, and she hadn’t intended to start haunting Will. Will had always known he was easy to stick to for spirits, and she had attached to him at the scene, but she was much more considerate than most of his.

“So, why didn’t he do the same thing to her?” Zeller was asking as he looked over her body. 

Elise propped her hip up against the wall next to Will. She brushed some of her loose hair out of her face.

“He said there was something wrong with me, while he was cutting me open,” she told Will.

She had been very reasonable, too. She had believed him immediately when he explained that she was dead, and she resolved to be helpful.

“He’s eating us,” she told him solemnly.

“There’s something wrong with the meat,” Will said aloud, drawing the attention of the team. 

Zeller, in particular, looked horrified by his words, his hand already inserted into the incision of the girl’s abdomen.

“She has liver cancer,” he said.

Will nodded.

“He’s eating them,” he said.

Beverly seemed to know something was up with him. Jack and Will had never told the team exactly what it was that he did, but she was starting to put some pieces together by the looks of it.

Elise smiled gratefully at Will, and he gave her a short nod, trying not to be too obvious about it.

“Why did he risk getting caught?” Price wondered aloud, “Why did he put her back?”

Will was aware of Jack’s intense gaze from across the room. Jack knew what was happening, and was determined to be the one in charge of everything.

“He kept saying “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry”,” Elise said, “He kissed me on the forehead as he tucked me in. He washed it off, of course, but he said he was sorry.”

Will nodded, disguising it as him ducking his head in thought.

“It was an apology,” he said, “He was sorry he couldn’t honor her the way he honored the other girls. He was sorry she had died in vain.”

The entire team was staring at him now, and they had expressions of varying belief plastered to their features.

“He tucked her back into bed, where he had taken her from, to try and undo whatever he could. He would have given her life again if he could have,” Will continued, “He was sorry she had died.”

Elise nodded her approval of his statement, and the team all turned their eyes back to the body on the table.

“There’s antler velvet in the wounds,” Beverly remembered, “It encourages healing.”

Will shook his head. That wasn’t what it was for. He knew it didn’t make sense.

“He hung me from them,” Elise told him, distress clear in her voice, “Like meat hooks. There’s a room of antlers. I was mounted on them as he cut me open.”

Will trembled, picturing the room all too well in his mind. It was a morbid thought, to be there, suspended on antlers and dead, watching your own body be opened.

“He mounted her on a set of antlers,” Will said, “Like meat hooks. He probably does that to all of them. It’s convenient, if you have antlers around.”

Beverly looked closer at the wounds and nodded.

“That does match the wound pattern,” She confirmed, “and a deer definitely didn’t do this to her.”

Price piped in, then.

“No, deer pin their prey,” he said, as if deer hunted, “they don’t typically gore them like this.”

Will tuned them out, staring at the body. Elise stood close to him, watching him. Jack watched him too, staring at him like he was a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

\---

Will was back home and Elise had come with him. He didn’t tie her to his property as he had the others, because he would still need to talk to her, and she hadn’t caused him any trouble. 

Will fed his dogs and let them run around in the field. Elise smiled as she watched them. She liked animals, and Will knew she would miss her family’s cat. Hopefully she would like being around the dogs. 

“Sorry,” Will said, making Elise glance up at him, “I can’t let you into the house. You’re going to have to stay out here with the others.”

Elise stood up from her crouched position over one of the dogs.

“This happens to you a lot?” She asked.

Will smiled wryly.

“Too often. I’d let the friendly ones in if I wouldn’t also be letting in the unfriendly ones.”

Elise glanced over to the tree. The shadowy figure was there now, and Will nodded. 

“Can’t you get rid of them?” Elise asked, frowning at the figure.

Will huffed a laugh and looked up at the darkening sky.

“I used to think so. I really used to believe that I could.”


	4. To Be Friendly

The body on the stag head was worse than Will had expected anything pertaining to the case to be.

This was not the work of their killer. This was not what they wanted. Cassie Boyle looked at her own corpse with hollow eyes, but Will tried to avoid staring at her. She didn’t attach herself to him, which he was grateful for, but she radiated sadness and melancholy.

Elise had stayed back at the cars, and Will hadn’t asked her to come. She probably wasn’t particularly keen on seeing another body, and Will wasn’t so cruel as to even ask her to.

Price was going on about a bird called a Shrike. Apparently the locals had named the killer after the bird, and this was why. Jack thought this was the same guy, and he didn’t know what this was.

“He wanted her found this way,” Will said, “this wasn’t the same guy. This is a copycat at best, a disguise at worst. No, this was someone new. The man who killed Elise Nichols cares about the girls. He doesn’t set them out to be found in such a humiliating way.”

Cassie looked up at that, her eyes fixed on Will, and he had to swallow hard. He didn’t want to have to talk to her. He didn’t want to be wrapped up in all of this.

“I need a clear scene for a minute,” Will said, turning sharply to Jack.

Jack pressed his lips together as he looked over Will, but he nodded once and ordered everyone away.

Once Will was alone on the scene, save for the deceased girl, he turned fully to her.

“Can you tell me anything?” He asked, trying to be polite in light of the circumstances.

Cassie laughed bitterly, glancing back at her own corpse.

“I had met him before,” she said, “I don’t really remember. I was alive when he took my lungs. I was still breathing. I watched. He told me it was a gift. He said he was giving someone the gift of understanding through my death.”

Will felt himself grow pale, and he nodded.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” He asked.

Cassie turned to him, her eyes filled with tears that wouldn’t even make a splash if they fell from her cheeks.

“He hated me.”

Will walked back to the car as the team filled back into the scene.

“I need to know if there is anything at all you can tell me about the man who killed you,” Will told Elise. 

Elise leaned against the car door.

“There were two of them. A man and his daughter. He does this because of her. He told her that he kills us so she can live. He makes her help him. She doesn’t like it, but she does what he says. I met her. She was nice. She was the bait.”

Will chewed on his lip and leaned against the car as well.

“She looks like you, doesn’t she?” He guessed.

Elise nodded.

“They won’t find any trace of the others,” she said, “he uses everything. He says it’s how he honors them.”

Will nodded and swallowed a few aspirin to combat the headache he could feel beginning in the back of his skull.

Jack stalked over to where Will was standing and Elise walked around the car to be further away from him.

“What do you know?” Jack demanded.

Will cleared his throat.

“The shrike, he has a cabin somewhere. Private, so he can work in secret. He has a daughter, who matches the description of the missing and dead girls. He hunts, probably. His daughter is leaving home, and he can’t stand the thought of losing her.”

Jack drank in the information like whiskey, tasting the burn as it went down.

“And the copycat?”

Will stared into the field, where Cassie still stood, staring at her own body.

“Intelligent psychopath,” he stated, “he probably won’t kill like this again. He’ll be hard for you to catch. No clear motive. He doesn’t kill for passion. He hated Cassie Boyle, but he kills for some other reason.”

“That’s not much information, Will,” Jack said.

Will huffed a laugh.

“Why don’t you have doctor Lecter write up a profile for you? He’s your little psychiatrist pet now, isn’t he?” 

Jack was not amused.

\---

Will blinked up at the man in the doorway. It wasn’t Jack, like he had expected this early in the morning. The silhouette slowly came into focus and Will recognized the slippery outline of the psychiatrist Jack had asked to consult on the case.

“Doctor Lecter,” Will said dumbly.

The man smiled lightly and nodded.

“Good morning, Will. May I come in?” He asked politely.

Will glanced around him, thinking that somehow Jack would jump out and surprise him, having been there the entire time.

“Where’s Jack?” he asked.

The doctor tipped his head curiously.

“Deposed in court,” he explained, casting his own glance past Will, into the disheveled motel room, “the journey is left to the two of us today. May I come in?”

Will shook the daze out of his head and stepped aside to let the other man in. The doctor had a bag with him, and he made his way directly to the table under the window.

“I took the liberty of preparing some breakfast for the both of us,” Doctor Lecter declared, taking some containers from the bag, “I calculated that you are not likely to have already eaten this morning.”

He looked pointedly at Will, who became very aware of his state of dress, and felt his face grow warm. Will slumped into a chair at the table and grunted his agreement.

Elise paced from one end of the room to the other. She had been doing a lot of that, feeling the lack of physical senses unnerving. She eyed Doctor Lecter with casual interest, but seemed unfazed by his presence.

“This is a protein scramble,” The doctor said, sliding an open container to Will, “a proper way to begin the day.”

Will huffed in acknowledgement, picking up the fork and taking a bite.

The food was unacceptably delicious, and Will glanced up at the doctor once more, finding his odd eyes fixed on him.

“It’s delicious, thanks,” Will mumbled.

The doctor smiled and began to eat his own.

“I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I don’t believe you would consider it genuine, not considering the fact that I am likely to need to apologize again soon regardless. I must use my apologies sparingly.”

Will nodded, not wanting to appear rude, but also not really caring at the moment.

“I just don’t really appreciate when Jack tries to do things behind my back like that,” Will said, “He asked me to get a psych eval, and I probably will, but I don’t want it to be something he does on the sly.”

Doctor Lecter nodded.

“I understand,” he said, “I was not informed that my evaluation of you would be entirely without your consent.”

Will smirked. He didn’t believe that, but at least the guy was considerate enough to sort of apologize.

“I don’t know how much they told you about me,” Will said, “But almost everything that goes on is without my consent. I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want people in my head.”

The doctor tipped his head, studying Will.

“Yet you are here,” He observed.

Will chuckled.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said softly, trying not to sound too serious about it. He shoved some more food into his mouth after answering, hoping in vain that his statement would be seen as final.

“I can’t help but wonder how that was accomplished,” the doctor mused.

Will sighed and leaned back in the chair.

“Jack has more connections than I do. He knew I could help him, and he would try to get me on obstruction charges, or something, if I didn’t come. It would be a hassle, and I don’t have the patience to put up with that.”

The doctor took a bite of his own food and chewed slowly and thoughtfully.

“How interesting,” he all but purred, “I wonder what skill you may possess that would drive him to do such a thing.”

Will was not having it. The last thing he wanted to do was go around telling everyone that he talked to dead people. Psychiatrists would have a heyday with that, and he would probably be locked up.

“Guess you’ll have to try to figure it out through observation,” Will said, standing up. 

He grabbed some clothes from his suitcase and headed into the bathroom to dress. Doctor Lecter was not going to get him to admit to anything today. His psych eval would have to wait.


	5. To Be Brave

As Will pulled up to the small building, Elise was obviously growing bored in the backseat. She pressed her head to the window and looked out across the construction site, humming nonsensically to herself. 

Doctor Lecter had an amused smile on his face, which irked Will for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked gruffly.

The doctor scanned their surroundings.

“I’m interested to see what I can observe as we work together,” he said.

Will huffed unhappily. Just another guy trying to get into his head to see what could be seen. He hated him for it, and they hadn’t even really met more than twice.

“I’m just glad we’re not stuck making house calls today,” he said, “We’re just searching files.”

The doctor hummed happily, and Will hated him all the more for his lighthearted attitude.

“What exactly are we looking for?” he asked.

Will shrugged, checking his watch and glancing up to check on Elise in the rear view mirror. She was listening to their conversation now, probably trying to figure out how she might be able to help.

“There was a piece of metal on Elise Nichols’ body. We tracked it to a few work sites. We’re checking their files for anything peculiar, especially something that might lead us to the killer.”

Elise nodded thoughtfully, and doctor Lecter watched Will curiously. 

“What might qualify as peculiar?” He asked.

Will unfastened his seat belt and opened his door.

“I’ll know when I see it,” he said, standing up out of the car.

\---

“Garrette Jacob Hobbs,” Will said aloud. He saw Elise stiffen slightly at the name, and felt the gaze of doctor Lecter turn to peer over his shoulder at the file.

“What strikes you as peculiar?” the doctor asked.

Will shrugged lightly, handing the file to the other man.

“He left a phone number, but no address,” he said bluntly.

The secretary was looking at him like he was crazy, but he didn’t really care. He asked if she had a picture of the man, and she turned to her computer with every bone in her body radiating judgement.

The picture pulled up and Elise peered at it. Her brow furrowed and her hands began trembling. She looked back up at Will with eyes wide with horror.

Will nodded and asked the woman if they had an address for Hobbs. The woman was not very happy to comply, but he was persistent and she found the information for him.

“You did not look very closely at the picture,” The doctor noted as they began to load files into the trunk of the cruiser.

Will shrugged.

“I know it’s the right guy,” he explained.

The doctor raised his eyebrows, seeming to not have expected that answer, out of all the options. He pressed his lips together and nodded.

They took the files, leaving a very unhappy secretary in their wake, and headed to the Hobbs residence. Jack had wanted Will to do the interview, just to be absolutely sure.

Pulling up outside, Will could see the terrible energy the house gave off in waves. It was a place of death and horror, and he wanted nothing more than to turn away and leave.

Doctor Lecter watched Will curiously from the passenger seat, seemingly unfazed by anything.

Will got out of the car and Elise followed close behind. Will had asked her to help him make the absolute identification when they were face to face. She had agreed, shoving down her fear in order to do some justice for herself in the world.

As Will approached the door, a woman stumbled out. Her throat had been sliced and she collapsed on the front step, bleeding in huge gouts.

Will rushed up, but saw her spirit rise from the body, so only paused over her before dashing into the house. He pulled his gun from the holster and ran over the process he was supposed to follow as he plunged into the house.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs!” Will shouted.

He heard a whimper and some low, growling words from up ahead. Will turned the corner into the kitchen and froze at the scene he met.

The man from the picture had a knife to a girl’s throat. He held her still as she sobbed and pleaded with him. She had a striking resemblance to Elise, and Cassie was close as well. The fear in her eyes brought images of both girls to the front of Will's mind and he tried to blink them away.

“Drop the knife and put your hands in the air,” Will said, his hands shaking, “FBI, stop this now.”

The man set his jaw, tears falling down his cheeks, and dragged the knife across his daughter’s throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, and Will felt it hit his face and hands as he pulled the trigger of the gun.

Will didn't know how many times he fired, but he fell to his knees immediately after.

The screams shattered his mind. The sounds of anguish and anger pelted his soul and took hold of his beating heart with fingers of flaming ice. Will wasn't sure if he made any sound, but a set of screams sounded far too familiar to be a coincidence.

There was a pair of steady hands on his shoulders, and Will looked up into the amber-blood eyes of Doctor Lecter. 

Garrette Jacob Hobbs was hissing in his ear, a painful, chafing sound asking him if he could see the reasons. If he could see the light. If he could see into their souls as he saw into their minds.

The girl that bled out on the floor a few feet away walked up to Will and sat beside him on the floor. She sobbed, the sound filled with grief and shame.

Doctor Lecter’s lips moved as he spoke to Will, but the sound was drowned out by the screams of Elise and the cries of the Hobbs family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo is coming up before my next update date, so I'm not going to post another chapter until December first. Sorry for the long wait, but I am trying to actually finish this year. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	6. To be Sane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient while I did NaNo. I did manage to finish, so the time away was not wasted. I hope you like this chapter.

Will woke up in a hospital bed. He turned his head and saw Doctor Lecter sitting beside him. The man was asleep, and a few hairs had fallen over his brow. He looked vulnerable, as Will hadn't thought he could.

Will tried to move his hand to reach out and wake the man, but he found his hands strapped to the bed with thick leather bindings.

Panic filled Will up to his throat and he pulled hard at the bindings.

No.

This was how they treated crazy people.

Will wasn't crazy.

He didn't belong like this.

The frantic pulling caused a clanging noise, which woke Doctor Lecter. The man snapped awake and stood. He leaned over Will and placed a hand in the middle of his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. 

“Will. It's alright. You're safe and you are being taken care of.”

Will shook his head furiously.

“No, no, no, no, no! I'm not crazy. I don't belong here. Let me go. I'm not crazy.”

A light of understanding flickered in the eyes of the Doctor and he nodded calmly.

“I'll undo the bindings,” he said, “but you must calm down, Will.”

Will snapped back to his senses and forced the building panic down. He was shaking, but he laid back and nodded. His muscles were tense and he trembled with anxiety as Doctor Lecter locked their gazes together and moved his hands with calm surety to undo the straps.

When all the straps had been released, and Will was given back his ability to move, he curled up into a shaking, sobbing mess.

“Where am I?” He asked, his voice shaking more than his hands, “what happened?”

Doctor Lecter reclaimed his seat, seemingly confident that Will would not try to make a run for it.

“You are in the Maryland hospital. You experienced a psychological break when we were at the Hobbs household. It was necessary for you to be brought here.”

The cool tone brought a soothing feeling, trickling through Will’s veins. Probably a trick that he had because he was a psychiatrist. He took a few slow breaths.

“I'm not crazy,” he stated again, knowing he sounded threatening, but not really caring.

Doctor Lecter shook his head.

“No, you are not,” he agreed, “the bindings were only to stop you from harming yourself if you were to wake in another state of panic.”

Will shivered, images flooding his head of psychiatric hospitals and straight jacketed inmates in a prison. 

The silence snapped Will back to reality. He looked around the room frantically, searching in vain for the spirits that cursed his mind and haunted his thoughts.

“Where are they?” He asked without thinking.

The Doctor smiled sadly.

“Garrette Jacob Hobbs died at his house. His daughter died as well, just after. I did what I could, but the cut was deep, and you needed my help.”

Will shook his head, again glancing around the room, as if they might have been hiding, waiting to jump out and torture him.

“Where are they?”

The doctor hummed curiously, tipping his head and studying Will.

“I took the liberty of burning sage for you. I was unsure if it would work, but it was easier to do inconspicuously than lining the room with salt or holy water.”

Will groaned and dropped his head onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“You figured it out,” he said in defeat.

He had known the man was clever, and hadn't expected it to remain a secret for long with him around, but he had hoped to make a good impression before everything came to light. 

The Doctor had no layer of pride or gloating in his voice as he replied.

“I saw the markings on your chest as they treated you,” he said, “it was not hard to put the pieces together after that, and I did not wish you to wake up to be in your nightmare again.”

Will huffed a bitter laugh. He had a few signs of protection tattooed to his chest. He had tried almost everything when he was young to get the ghosts to leave. Each attempt had some level of success, but nothing worked for long.

“Thanks. I owe you one,” he said.

“Doctor Bloom was here an hour ago,” Doctor Lecter said casually, “she seemed incredibly perturbed. I wonder who her anger will be directed to.”

Will laughed, letting himself relax slowly.

“I imagine, Jack Crawford,” he replied, “she probably told him to keep me away from danger, or something. Whatever it was, he failed.”

Doctor Lecter hummed in agreement. 

“I am familiar with Alana, but she has never mentioned you to me. I can't help but wonder why,” he said.

Will cleared his throat.

“She wants to make me comfortable around her. She wants me to trust her. It's part of her plan to get into my head.”

“She wishes to be your friend,” the Doctor concluded.

Will shrugged.

“If it would get her a pass into how I work,” he said, “but she might not want to, after finding out what I see.”

Doctor Lecter shifted in his seat, opening a book that had blank pages. He picked up a very, very sharp pencil and began to sketch something.

“I get the feeling you expect that I told her what I guessed,” he said.

Will snapped his head up to look at the man who seemed somehow perfectly at ease.

“I did not. She is still unaware of your ability.”

Will furrowed his brow with a deep frown.

“Why?” He asked.

Any psychiatrist in the world would be lauding their discovery, declaring themselves the highest authority on the elusive mind of Will Graham. Unless he planned to use it as some sort of blackmail to use against Will.

The Doctor looked up, meeting Will’s gaze with perfectly genuine honesty.

“I do not gossip, Will. It is not my secret to reveal, or my mind to expose.”

The frank and calm way he said it made Will feel he believed the words to be essential elements of his very character. 

“That's not what people usually tell me,” Will confessed, “psychiatrists in particular seem to consider me their intellectual property to do with what they will.”

Doctor Lecter frowned, seeming disappointed in his colleagues of unknown identities. 

“That is highly unprofessional of them,” he said, “and unethical. I cannot picture Doctor Bloom treating you in such a way.”

Will laughed.

“No. Alana is the exception, as always. It's the others I've met that treat me that way. Fredrick Chilton is the worst for it.”

Doctor Lecter nodded in understanding.

\---

“You were never able to pull the trigger before,” Jack accused, “you just pulled the trigger seven times!”

Will knew he was right. He also knew he probably would have pulled it more times if the screaming hadn't overtaken him. 

“So. You're going to make me get the eval,” Will concluded.

Jack nodded.

“I need to know I didn't break you,” he said.

Will smiled bitterly.

“You don't have anyone that works better whole than I do broken,” He said, “are you going to give me over to Alana, then?”

Jack shrugged, but shook his head.

“Only if that would make you more comfortable. I was thinking Doctor Lecter, because he'll have a blank slate to start on. He was also there when you experienced the break. He knows what you went through.”

Will nodded. He had the odd inclination to trust Doctor Lecter, and the Doctor had not done anything to deter that. He had been nothing but friendly and courteous in the time they had worked together, and Will was pleased he hadn't exposed his ability to Alana.

“I'm not going to be comfortable with anyone in my head,” Will said, “but I think Lecter is a good choice.”

Jack smiled for once, and nodded.


	7. To Be Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First psychiatry session

“Would you like me to protect my office from the spirits, so that you may be at ease during our sessions?” Doctor Lecter asked.

Will shook his head, pacing around the room. 

“If you're supposed to know what's going on in my head, I might as well have it all going on while I'm here,” he said.

“Tell me what you see,” Doctor Lecter said, less a command and more a request.

Will glanced to the chairs. Elise had decided to stay at his house, wanting nothing more to do with Hobbs. The man was sitting in the chair that had been offered to Will, and he tracked Will's movements with his dead, glazed eyes. His bullet wounds looked old and crusted over, trickling blood only when he moved. He had decided to haunt Will.

Abigail had thanked Will the night before, and she stood near a bookshelf with a sympathetic frown. She had tried to comfort him and tell him he had done right. 

“I see Garrette Jacob Hobbs,” Will answered, tearing his gaze away from the chair and the spirit there, “and I see Abigail.”

“His daughter,” Doctor Lecter noted, “do they both haunt you?”

Will huffed softly. 

“Hobbs is doing it on purpose. He wants to make me suffer. He looks like a corpse. Abigail doesn't want to be haunting me, but I'm too easy to stick to.”

Abigail smiled sadly at him. 

“Do you not see Elise Nichols or Cassie Boyle?” Doctor Lecter asked.

Will shook his head, trying not to look at the corpse apparition.

“Cassie didn't want to haunt me,” he explained, “so she's still in the field as far as I know. Elise doesn't like Hobbs very much. She stayed at the house.”

Hannibal Lecter nodded in understanding.

“I assume Hobbs occupies the seat across from me,” he said, “or I think you would have accepted it when I offered.”

Will nodded.

“Is there no way to rid yourself of them?” 

Will laughed, and lowered himself to the ground, sliding his spine along a bookshelf. Abigail sat next to him, sharing in his despair.

“I used to think so,” he said, “you saw one of my attempts. I tried everything. I can't get rid of the souls that haunt me, and I can't get rid of the nightmares that plague me.”

Will closed his eyes, exhausted, and leaned his head back against the shelf.

After a moment of silence, there was a soft rustle of fabric next to him, on the opposite side to Abigail. Hannibal Lecter was sitting on the floor next to him. Will opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He could see the form of the other man in his periphery, his dignified frame sitting on the floor next to the mess of a man that was Will Graham.

“I know this may sound unprofessional,” Hannibal said carefully, “but I would like to know if you see any spirits with me.”

Will furrowed his brow, remembering the slippery way the other man was. How he seemed to repel the souls that might have clung to him.

“You don't have any,” Will replied, “but you are always grasping for one. You would have one if they had not been lost to you in a way that left you without. I don't understand how you work.”

Will could almost feel the satisfied smirk that Hannibal now wore. He was pleased to hear all of this.

“My sister,” Hannibal revealed without prompting, “I lost her when we were both very young.”

Will pressed his lips together. He hadn't wanted this. He just wanted to live with his dogs, next to a stream. He never wanted to have to literally dig up the ghosts of the past.

“I'm sorry,” he said, staring at his feet.

The energy of the man next to him was only friendly and accepting, but he hated it. He wanted people to stop being so nice to him, and just hate him for reminding them of their dead loved ones.

“I have made peace with my memory of her,” Hannibal said, “and I am thankful that I experienced it. I would not be who I am today if I had not.”

Will hummed in agreement.

“Most people I talk to about this, it's all too fresh and they can't say that to me,” he thought aloud, “most people would still change their past to avoid grief.”

Hannibal nodded.

“You and I are unlike them. We understand that dwelling on the past will only lead one in circles. To truly accomplish anything, we must use our experiences to propel ourselves forward.”

Will laughed.

“You and I, huh?” He mused, “you don't even know me.”

Hannibal shifted, ever so slightly, and his shoulder brushed against Will's.

“I intend to remedy that, with your consent, of course.”

Will felt his face heat up. He was completely unsure of what was happening, and entirely unprepared for whatever it was.

“Quid pro quo,” he answered.

\---

“Jack wants to know if you're familiar with gardening,” Beverly said.

Will frowned, trying to block out the words being hissed in his ear by the man who had died the last time he had used his gun. He replaced the equipment and slid his gun into its holster to follow Beverly.

The scene was so much more serene than Will had anticipated. The hands sprouted from the ground like saplings, a small tube hooked up for feeding them something. The mushrooms created an organic pattern on the forest floor, and one could get the sense that nothing wrong had happened.

The ghosts were what ruined that impression for Will.

Nine people stood, in some sort of daze, watching the team work to dig up their bodies.

Will walked to the farthest one, noting the conditions of the bodies and calculating that they were the first.

“Excuse me,” he said in a low voice, grateful that the team was a fair distance away, “can you tell me what has been done to all of you?”

The woman turned to him, her eyes glazed over and distant. Something was wrong with her, even as a ghost.

“I don't know how I got here,” she said dreamily, “I gave myself some of my insulin, and then I woke up here.”

Her eyes flicked to her decomposed body.

“I suppose I didn't actually wake up, did I?”

Will shook his head sadly.

“I'm sorry. Did you see what happened to the others?” He asked.

Will was trying to be gentle, but he didn't want to talk to her too much and have her attach to him. He had enough ghosts.

“He brings them, always asleep, and buries them. He is careful, and he takes his time. He says we will be able to reach for each other once we are the mycelium.”

Will glanced at the mushrooms. There was definitely something odd going on.

Hobbs was much more quiet than usual, standing by the last body, the one closest to the rest of the team, and Jack. He stared at the body with his dead eyes, small trickles of blood always staining his shirt.

Will walked over, counting bodies along the way. Something was wrong.

“This one’s still alive!” Will called to Jack, his own horror startling him. 

The man took a sudden breath and reached out for something, anything. The team rushed in, pushing past Will and lifting the body out of the grave. Will was frozen to the spot, fixated by the sight.

Will fell to his knees when Hobbs began shouting in his ear. He had come around, just behind Will while he was distracted, and was screaming about his death, his daughter, and how Will was the same.

Will covered his ears and shut his eyes harshly against the onslaught. He was trembling again, and he couldn't hear anything except how he was a killer, and was just like the rest of the killers. 


	8. To Be Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mushroom man

“Diabetic ketoacidosis,” Will declared.

The team stared at him, and Will waved them off.

“He must be a pharmacist, or a doctor,” he continued, “he changes their prescription. They go into a coma, and he buries them. The tubes are for feeding them sugar water. They stay alive long enough for their bodies to absorb the sugar, and it feeds the mushrooms.”

Zeller grimaced.

“We just dug up his mushroom garden?” He asked.

Will huffed.

“Yeah, he's gonna want to plant a new one.”

The team exchanged horrified glances before Jack whipped them back into shape. He barked at them, getting them to check medical histories and prescription providers of the victims.

Will allowed their forms to blur in his vision, keeping only the bodies in focus. The man that had still been alive at the scene had died on the way to the hospital. If Will hadn't thought to count the bodies, the man would likely have attached to him. He had intended to walk up to the man, and would have been within reach.

The spirits had stayed in the clearing, having been in some sort of peaceful stupor. Will was glad they hadn't stuck to him, and they didn't seem terribly unhappy where they were.

Will stayed that way, fixated on the lifeless forms laid out on ten tables before him. He lost his sense of time, thinking of nothing and processing nothing.

“Will.”

The voice was calm and firm, like the hand that touched his elbow.

Will snapped out of his daze and looked up into the warm maroon eyes that studied him with friendly concern.

“Doctor Lecter,” Will said, blinking at his surroundings. The team was gone, and the bodies had been covered.

“Agent Crawford has asked that I help you by giving you any psychiatric help you may need, as well as inform you of their findings,” Hannibal said, gently pulling Will toward the exit.

“They have a suspect,” Will guessed.

Hannibal frowned at him, but nodded.

“They have found a pharmacist that works at a location where several of the victims received their medication. They are headed to his place of work to apprehend him as we speak.”

Hobbs laughed loudly. It was a sound of complete mania, and it made Will flinch.

“I have to go there,” Will said, “Jack needs me there.”

Hannibal steered Will toward his Bentley and hummed unhappily. He opened the door for Will, who sat in the car mechanically.

“I would recommend you do not,” Hannibal said, “it would be detrimental to your mental state if you were to have another altercation with a killer.”

Will shook his head, not even letting the words enter his mind.

“I have to go. He probably already has another victim. I can find them.”

Hannibal made no more attempt to argue, driving in silent disapproval. They pulled up outside a small store that was there to be a pharmacy, and had a store built around it for the ill to buy trinkets and snacks for far too much money.

Will got out of the car without a word and sped to the door. 

Jack stopped a few feet inside when he saw Will heading for him.

“He got away,” Jack admitted to Will, “he somehow got tipped off that we were coming.”

Will nodded, looking out over the parking lot.

“Check his internet history and you'll find out how. Is his car still here?” He asked.

Jack looked to the people around him.

“Well? What kind of car are we looking for?” He demanded.

The information was brought forward, and Will took off into the lot before it had been completed.

He knew it the moment he saw it. He asked for a baton and it was provided by someone who didn't ask any questions, recognizing the authority in his voice.

Once the trunk opened, Will pulled the woman up out of the fertilizer and soil. She was still alive, and he intended her to stay that way.

Paramedics rushed in and took her from him. Will stepped away from the scene and was joined by Hannibal, who watched in matching silence.

“Jack!” Price shouted, “we checked his browser. You're not gonna be happy.”

Freddie Lounds had written about Will. It wasn't his first run in with the reporter, but her feelings about him had only gotten worse over the years, as evident from the article.

_ “A man, once having claimed to speak with the dead, hired by the FBI to catch serial killers once again. Will Graham claimed to be a psychic, and helped track down a few killers years ago, but retired when his psychosis caused him to experience a mental break after causing the death of a young girl. Has he managed to bamboozle the authorities once again, and work himself into their good graces through his cunning manipulations?” _

Beverly seemed angry, and Zeller was now casting cautious glances in Will’s direction. Price ignored the contents of the article, dismissing it as fabricated nonsense, like much of Freddie's work. Jack was the one who should have been feared in that moment. He was cursing and pacing with obvious anger as he tried to decide his next course of action.

Hannibal pulled Jack aside and spoke to him in a low, hushed tone. Jack looked over to Will and nodded.

Hannibal walked up to Will with a sad smile.

“I am to take you away from here,” he said, placing his hands on Will’s arms, “do you live nearby?”

Will shook his head.

“I thought you would have looked at my address,” he said, “since you have all my records.”

Hannibal nodded and guided Will out the door, as he had been making a habit of that day.

“I was unsure if it was correct,” he said, “since you work so far from it.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. I have a long drive,” he admitted, “but it's worth it to avoid nosy neighbors.”

Hannibal hummed in agreement and opened the car door for Will once again.

“Then I hope you will not object to me bringing you to my home,” he said, “Jack wishes you to remain relatively near, and I think it would be wise to keep you under my care for the time being.”

Will still wasn't fully paying attention to what was being said, so he only nodded in silence as Hannibal got in the car and began the drive.

“I will cook for you,” Hannibal continued, “you haven't had a proper meal today.”

That caught Will’s attention. He furrowed his brow at the Doctor.

“That's not true,” he said defensively.

Hannibal tipped his head without taking his eyes off the road and inhaled deeply.

“The last thing you consumed that even resembled sustenance was a coffee, but that was at noon. That does not qualify as a meal, Will.”

Will chuckled, but shifted in his seat nervously.

“Alright, Doctor know-it-all, how do you know?” He asked.

Hannibal smiled.

“Your smell,” he admitted, “I was gifted with an extremely sensitive nose.”

Will laughed.

“And people say I'm scary,” he mused, “smell anything else on me, or is that a weird question?”

Hannibal hummed in amusement.

“I believe our conversation has already wandered outside the realms of normalcy,” he replied, “I smell dogs and motor oil, under your atrocious aftershave. It has spent too long in the bottle, I think.”

Will nodded.

“You got me,” he said in surrender, “sorry if the smell offends you.”

Hannibal smiled softly.

“It is nothing that cannot be remedied,” he said.

Will was once again completely overwhelmed with the feeling that he was in too deep in something he couldn't even see. Something felt completely off, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

\---

The smell of cooking meat filled the air and made Will realize how right Hannibal had been. A bagel in the morning and coffee at noon was not enough food to sustain him.

Seeing the man with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an apron tied around his waist gave Will an odd feeling that he was somehow intruding. Hannibal’s attention was completely on the food before him, and Will felt like he was watching some odd ritual that was not meant to be seen by his eyes. That was a rare thing for Will, who's eyes had never been forbidden anything.

“So, you're a psychiatrist who cooks professionally in his off time?” Will asked, trying to make polite conversation to distract himself from the odd feeling.

Hannibal smiled without looking up or pausing.

“I was a medical doctor before,” he said, “but I found psychiatry a more rewarding line of work, and transferred my anatomical knowledge to my love of cooking. I do not think it can be considered professional, seeing as I do it only for pleasure.”

Will laughed and nodded, trying to let himself relax against the counter he was leaning on.

“Medical doctor,” he repeated.

Memories flashed into his mind of the Hobbs house. Hannibal, kneeling before him with surety and calm. Hannibal, checking Abigail to see if she could be saved. Hannibal, in the hospital, reacting quickly to placate his panic and working with precision to remedy the problem.

“Emergency room,” Will stated, looking up and catching Hannibal’s surprised expression, “am I right?”

Hannibal smiled, and it was wider and brighter than any Will had seen from the man before.

“Yes, though I might ask how you came to the conclusion so easily.”

Will nodded.

“I teach kids how to draw conclusions from evidence,” Will replied, “I don't only have the skill of talking to murder victims.”

Hannibal was still smiling, and he seemed very pleased and amused. He nodded and waited for Will to continue.

“I've seen you in an emergency,” Will reminded him, “and in a hospital setting. Your practiced calm should have given it away sooner.”

The sight of Hannibal’s hands was mesmerizing as they fluttered over the ingredients and seemed to move of their own accord. Will found himself staring, but he didn't bother to tear his gaze away. 

“I am impressed by your observational skills,” Hannibal said, “and I am surprised your reputation did not precede you. I was never told of you before Jack came to me.”

Will huffed a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, well, I think that luxury is about to end for me. At least if Freddie Lounds has anything to say about it. I've tried to stay in the shadows as much as I can.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I am sorry she has treated you thus. It is incredibly unprofessional of her. Please follow me to the table.”

Will stood up, leaning away from the counter, and followed Hannibal to the dining room. Hobbs followed him with his usual dead stare, making Will’s flesh crawl. The room was just as fancy as he had expected, but the decor was subtly morbid, which surprised him.

Hannibal set them across from each other, and Will sat down, feeling completely out of place, and worrying he would somehow mar the elegance of the room, or that the ghosts would find a way to break something.

Hannibal took his own seat, looking every bit at home in his surroundings. 

“Honestly, in her profession, she probably hasn't done anything unusual,” Will said, trying to keep his mind on the conversation, “and I don't mind so much that she talks about me that way. Most people do, so I’ve learned to deflect most of the damage it would do.”

Hannibal did not seem pleased with that. 

“Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me,” Hannibal stated, “and Miss Lounds never makes any effort to practice manners towards others.”

Something in his tone was dangerously serious, and Will furrowed his brow at the sensation. 

“You’ve met her,” he concluded, “I hadn’t realized you were that familiar with her.”

Hannibal nodded, but he retained the displeased frown he had been wearing.

“I had the misfortune of making her acquaintance quite recently, as a matter of fact,” he said, “I do not think I shall be inviting her over for dinner.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“I’ll bet you won’t,” he said, “I hope she wasn’t pestering you about me. She’s done that kind of thing before, and I would hate for you to get pulled into it.”

Will studied Hannibal as he said this, trying to decipher any changes in attitude or posture that could give away the answer.

“Unfortunately for both of us, it was indeed concerning you,” Hannibal replied, “she listened in to our last session, and wanted to play at being a patient of mine. I made sure the recording was deleted, but it seems her memory is better than I would prefer.”

Will blinked in surprise. Hannibal didn’t seem at all concerned about what had happened, though he was clearly annoyed. He spoke very calmly and factually.

“So, what happened?” Will asked.

“I have informed her that she is not welcome on the premises of my office, and will be escorted away if she is ever found there again. I also advised her to stop prying into your personal life, as it is incredibly uncouth of her, though I can’t imagine she will take my suggestion to heart.”

Will nodded.

“Yeah, well, thanks for trying. I hadn’t expected her to latch onto me so quickly,” He confessed, “She really knows how to get information.”

Hannibal smirked.

“Indeed. You may rest assured that any information she gains in the future did not originate from me. I do not consider her worthy of conversation.”

Will laughed. 

“I owe you one.”


	9. To Connect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some real action here

Will was back in his house when Jack called him.

Will stood by the window, looking out at the angry spirits that tried to get in. They glared at him and paced along the protective border, searching for weaknesses.

“Graham,” he answered.

“Will, Stammets got to Lounds. He was asking about you. He might be trying to get to you. I need you here so we can put you under protective watch.”

Will had not expected that, but he sighed and took a swallow of his coffee. Mara and Elise had taken to sitting together in the grass and watch the sky. Abigail mostly tried not to leave her father unattended, without engaging with him.

“He doesn't have a car, Jack. How would he get to Wolf Trap?” Will asked, walking to his desk to start packing for the drive.

“I want you where I can see you, Will. Get here ASAP, or I'm sending an officer escort.”

Will huffed.

“Alright. Quantico?” Will asked.

Jack spoke distantly for a moment, giving orders to someone.

“Yes. Quantico, and fast.”

Will ended the call and went to the back door. He opened it and whistled, causing a stampede of paws to come crashing through the door around his legs. The dogs all scurried around, still playing and hopping as they made their way to their food dishes.

Will smiled and gave them each a pat as he walked by to get the food out.

The dogs barked a few times and Will didn't think anything of it until he heard the click of a gun behind him.

Turning slowly, Will came face to face with Eldon Stammets. He knew it was him because he had a slightly crazed look in his eyes despite his calm expression, and he looked as disheveled as would be expected from a man who had been on the run overnight and found his way to the middle of nowhere in pursuit of a psychic.

“Will Graham,” he said.

His voice was dry and thin, with tones of desperation under his confidence.

Will nodded slowly.

“You know that,” he said, “you came all this way to find me.”

Stammets nodded, his sweaty forehead glistening in the morning light.

“You understand,” he stated, “you know why I do it. You connect.”

Will tipped his head. There was an energy with the man that gave Will goosebumps all down his arms. He was desperate for a connection, having chased them and tried to force them, but he repelled them even more strongly than Hannibal did. He wasn’t slippery, but something about him was just unappealing, and it seemed to keep the spirits away. There were wisps of souls about him, like whispers of who they had been, like he had torn pieces of their souls from them out of his sheer desire to connect.

“I do,” Will replied, “so what do you want from me?”

Stammets grinned.

“I want to help you make a connection, and for you to help me make a connection.”

\---

When they pulled up in front of Hannibal’s house, Will was more surprised than he thought he should have been. 

Stammets gestured for Will to get out of the car, and Will didn't argue. 

Stammets had him walk up to the door, and motioned for him to knock.

Will rang the bell and the door opened after a beat. Hannibal stood there, in his usual kind of overly fancy tailored suit. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Will, but he stepped aside to allow him in.

“Will. I admit this is a surprise,” he said.

Will stepped in, knowing Stammets was close behind.

“For me too,” he replied.

The sound of Stammets walking up to the doorway drew both of their attention. He aimed his gun at Hannibal and nodded at Will.

“He brought me,” Will explained, “this is Eldon Stammets.”

Understanding flashed in Hannibal’s eyes, and was soon replaced by curiosity.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Hannibal said, nodding to the man.

“Go to the kitchen,” Stammets ordered.

Hannibal raised his hands in surrender, but remained completely calm. He turned and began the journey to the kitchen. Stammets was directly behind him, leaving Will to follow after. 

Will thought quickly, knowing that Stammets was dangerous, and he had some kind of drug that could easily knock out a grown man. Will had to act quickly.

Hannibal reached the far end of the kitchen and turned around. Stammets still had him at gunpoint, but he made eye contact with Will over his shoulder. Will gave him a quick nod before he stepped forward.

Hannibal kept his knives absurdly well sharpened. Stammets’ throat opened like Will was slicing butter, and he fell to the ground with gurgling gasps.

Will stood, covered in the other man’s blood, and blinking in surprise. The ghost came slowly, and fixed Will with a confused and betrayed expression.

A slow crescendo of static filled Will’s head. He couldn't think anymore, and he felt his vision blur.

Two strong hands rested on his shoulders and his vision cleared. He looked up into the warm maroon eyes of Hannibal.

“Will. Stay with me. Are you hurt?”

Will swallowed and shook his head. The static was slowly clearing, and Hannibal raised his hand to feel Will’s forehead.

“You are not feverish. Are you feeling unwell?” 

Hannibal’s concern was cutting through the fog in Will’s head and he felt himself crash into reality.

Will stared at Stammets’ ghost, which made no move to try haunting him, only eyeing he and Hannibal with curious suspicion.

“I’m feeling better now,” Will said softly, “at least, better than a second ago.”

He offered Hannibal a weak smile which was returned.

“I'll phone the police,” Hannibal said, turning. 

He kept his hands on Will’s shoulders for a touch longer than needed before he let go and walked a few feet away to call Jack. He flicked his eyes between Will and the body as he spoke on the phone. The small movement was not fearful or judgmental, as Will would have expected. It was slow and calculating. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I notice that Eldon Stammets is one of my favorite opportunities for plot development. I basically rely on him in all my fics that follow the canon timeline. 
> 
> Huh


	10. To Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

Jack wanted to know what had happened, and Will was having a hard time making his story sound sane.

“He thought you wanted to kill Doctor Lecter?” Jack asked.

Will shook his head, frowning. His hair was mussed and fell in his face from all his worrying.

“He thought I wanted to connect with him. He thought I wanted to be his friend, and he thought I was having a hard time with that. In his mind, it would be easier for me to be friends with him once he was dead, and he thought I could help him connect to someone in return for helping me kill Doctor Lecter.” 

Will knew he sounded crazy, but it was exactly what Stammets had been thinking. Maybe Freddie had said something to give him that idea. She had listened to one of their sessions, after all, and she had a way of twisting words.

Jack seemed to be having a hard time understanding. He shook his head with a deep frown, glancing at Hannibal. 

Hannibal stood across the room, talking with another officer, likely relaying his version of events. He had glanced over on occasion, laying his maroon gaze on Will, and Will had done everything he could to avoid meeting it.

“Alright. If it will help you give a more detailed explanation, I want to talk to you in my office. Alone, if you want, but I'll have to bring Hannibal in as well eventually.”

Will shrugged.

“Bring Hannibal in at the same time. I owe him an explanation too, so it'll be easier to get them both over with at the same time.”

Jack nodded and left Will, to walk over and talk to Hannibal. Will watched, knowing Hannibal could probably feel his gaze from across the room, but not caring enough to tear his eyes away. Hannibal had blood spattered on his incredibly fancy suit, but he didn't seem to have any on his skin. He didn't seem perturbed by the blood at all.

Jack drove Will to headquarters, and Hannibal drove himself. Once they were all seated in Jack’s office, Will let out a heavy, and tired sigh.

“Alright. I got your call about Stammets,” Will began, “I got my dogs in the house and went to get their food before I left. Stammets came up behind me with a gun. He said I understand what he was doing.”

“Your permanent house guests didn't warn you?” Jack asked with an accusatory tone.

Will grimaced, keeping his gaze locked on the front edge of Jack’s desk.

“I keep them out of the house, actually,” he confessed, “salt lines and stuff. I don't have any house guests except my dogs. They were already making enough noise.”

Disapproval and frustration emanated from Jack in pounding waves that wore down on Will and made him feel small. Hobbs loomed over his shoulder, growing as close as he could to make Will uncomfortable, and it was working.

“I think Will should be allowed his safe spaces,” Hannibal said, his words acting as a defensive barrier from the erosive force, “and it is incredibly apt of him to separate his home life from the horrors that would follow him from work. He must have a refuge from what he brings back from dark places, Jack.”

Will had heard people talk that way on his behalf before, but it was different coming from Hannibal. There was no pity in his tone, and he was not trying to say it to get on Will’s good side the way Alana always had. He wanted Jack to let Will do what was necessary to keep himself sane.

Will glanced up, flicking his gaze between them

Jack was frowning apologetically to Hannibal, though the slight twitch and wrinkle at the corner of his nose betrayed his displeasure.

Hannibal had his typical, cool and calm expression, but his mouth was set a touch more firmly. Will let his gaze flick up to Hannibal’s eyes and saw they were fixed on Jack with icy determination.

“Continue, Will,” Jack said.

Will nodded, finding the edge of the desk again as he spoke.

“I asked what he wanted from me. He said he wanted to help me make a connection, and he wanted me to help him make a connection in return. He made me get in his car, which I assume he stole, and drove me to Doctor Lecter’s house.”

Will glanced up, accidentally meeting Hannibal’s gaze as he did.

This was one of those times where he hadn't wanted to be able to see everything he could.

Hannibal had looked at him warmly, and he had not been concerned or incensed that he had been made a target. He had been accepting and understanding. Will wished he could have avoided knowing all that and just continued feeling guilty.

“Why Hannibal?” Jack asked.

Will shrugged, looking down even further now, at his shoes.

“I don't have many friends,” he offered, “and I'm not social. I guess Doctor Lecter was the closest thing he could find, and he thought would I want to connect with him.”

Jack was unhappy, and the pulsating energy coming from him buffeted against the wall Hannibal seemed to be assembling with great care and precision.

“It is only natural for him to assume you would wish to create more stable and comfortable connections with those in your life,” Hannibal said, “and I am grateful to have been his target this time. Another may have behaved differently and caused more lives to be lost. We are very fortunate circumstances ended how they did.”

Will could feel the unspoken words settling in his chest like a warm drink. Hannibal was glad to be seen as his friend, and he was glad Will had not been harmed by the delusional killer.

“Well, at least we don't have to worry that Stammets will be planting anymore mushroom gardens,” Jack conceded, “I have you to thank for that, though you might have subdued him a bit more cleanly.”

The comment was aimed at Will, and it cut to the quick, making Will flinch at the memory of his own action. The blood was still on his hands, now drying into a brown film over his skin and under his fingernails. He flexed his fingers on instinct and felt it flake and shift over his joints.

Will wondered if he had been allowed to wash his hands this entire time and just hadn't thought to ask.

Hannibal radiated disapproval.

“Will is not meant to be a field agent, if I recall,” he stated, his tone betraying nothing, “and under the circumstances, Will did everything within his power to preserve not only my life and his, but the lives of any potential future victims that may have been in peril.”

Despite the calmness of his tone, Will felt like he was watching a match of tug of war between the two men. Hannibal gained ground steadily, while Jack pulled to his side in short bursts of force.

“I got permission to return him to the field,” Jack contended, “and you declared him stable enough to work.”

Hannibal’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I cleared him for consulting work,” Hannibal reminded Jack, “I never advised for him to be put in such detrimental conditions. You must listen to Will if he decides he is no longer willing to help.”

That made Jack turn his attention back to Will with intensity burning from his gaze. Will glanced up with a weak smile.

“I'm willing to help, Jack,” Will assured him, “but I work differently than most people. I don't want to be involved with all this, but I know I can save lives. I don't want to be forced to take any more.”

Hannibal turned his gaze from Jack back to Will, an odd fondness in his eyes that Will felt on his skin like an autumn breeze. 

“So, what do you want?” Jack asked impatiently, tapping his fingers on the desk.

Will swallowed hard and shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to rub the blood from his skin and leave it as a powder on the office floor.

“I'll be a consultant,” Will said, “but I don't want to be an agent. I don't want to do interviews, unless I'm just observing. I don't do house calls. I don't go chasing a lead. That's going to have to be on someone else. I can show up at a scene to talk to whoever might be there, and I can be in the labs to work with the team. I'm a consultant, not a field agent.”

Jack was not happy at all. Will could feel the frustration from him, but all of Jack’s anger was aimed for Hannibal.

Hobbs chuckled low, making Will even less comfortable. His skin crawled.

“I'll see what I can do,” Jack said gruffly, “go clean up and get out of here. Doctor Lecter, they should be just about done with your place by now.”

He waved them away and Hannibal walked with Will out of the office. Will flexed his hands distractedly, letting snowflakes of blood flutter to the ground despite himself. Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder, and Will glanced up at the collar of his shirt.

“Would it be far too much of me to invite you to my home for a meal, and perhaps a shower?” Hannibal asked, pointedly nodding at Will’s bloody arms and torso.

Will looked down at himself, grimacing.

“I'll get blood in your car,” Will said, realizing late that he hadn't said no.

The smile in Hannibal's voice was soft when he replied.

“A worthy sacrifice. Of course, you may wash before, as much as you can, if it will make you more comfortable. I think it would benefit you to not be isolated just now.”

Will nodded, still staring at his hands rather than Hannibal. He bit his tongue against the sharp retort that pelted the back of his teeth. He was never really alone.

“I'll wash my hands at least,” he offered.

Hannibal nodded and Will darted into the bathroom. He scrubbed his arms in the sink, and looked down at his shirt with despair. There wasn't anything to be done for it. 

Hobbs was standing far too close, knowing how it made Will’s skin crawl. He had taken to more quiet modes of haunting recently, which Will was mostly grateful for.

Will walked back out and Hannibal looked him over appraisingly, the corner of his mouth turned up just a touch. Under his gaze, Will wanted to squirm like a child, but he didn't allow himself to, staring down at Hannibal’s leather shoes instead.

Abigail was standing near him, knowing that her presence was more of a comfort to Will than her father’s. She smiled at him sadly, and it was the best she could do. Elise had followed him that day, having seen him be abducted. She stood with Abigail, though she wasn't entirely comfortable around her. 

“He seems pleased for someone who just watched you kill a guy in his kitchen,” Elise pointed out.

Will wanted to tell her she was being silly. He had been a surgeon in an emergency room. He wasn't a stranger to death or blood. He had to have a cool composure in the face of tragedy and danger.

Hannibal led Will out to the parking lot and Will suddenly remembered exactly which car Hannibal drove.

At his horrified expression, Hannibal gave Will a perplexed frown.

“Is something wrong, Will?” He asked.

Will laughed and shook his head.

“I guess I haven't been in the right mind before to notice you drive a Bentley. I'll feel all the worse for getting blood in it now.”

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched up into a smile and he opened the passenger door for Will.

“A sacrifice I have already stated I am willing to make,” he said.

Will swallowed and got into the car. He felt so entirely out of place and awkward. He feared touching anything inside the car, and tried his best not to fidget or make the blood flake off of his clothes.

When Hannibal sat in the driver's seat, Will felt oddly at ease. The air in the car seemed less suffocating and his shoulders relaxed by a margin despite himself.

Hannibal was entirely relaxed and pleased during the drive, but Will continued to flinch when he saw Hobbs move from the corner of his eye. The man had made it his personal goal, in death, to make Will perpetually uneasy.

“I hope you are not offering to cook for me because you can smell that I haven't eaten,” Will joked, though his voice was flat.

Hannibal smiled lightly.

“I suppose you have a fair excuse for not having eaten well today,” he mused, “but you smell of blood and panic. I hope you may relax and enjoy yourself for at least a moment.”

Will couldn't help the fierce admiration that bloomed in his mind for Hannibal. The man could smell blood and panic, yet was offering Will safety and calm. Hannibal looked at Will and saw him clearly, as if his eyes could cut through the fog that clung to him like a fever.

“I don't know if I remember how to enjoy myself,” Will said with the same flat sarcasm that betrayed the truth in the words. He watched out of the window at the passing houses and trees.

The smile in Hannibal’s voice when he replied made Will feel overly warm.

“Nothing that cannot be remedied.”


	11. Desires

Standing in the front hall of Hannibal’s house, Will hesitated. 

Hannibal had offered to let him use the shower, but he must have known Will had nothing fresh to change into after. Will wasn't sure what to do.

Hannibal walked briskly to a staircase and beckoned for Will to follow.

Feeling entirely awkward and nervous, Will followed Hannibal to a hall closet, where the doctor retrieved an extremely plush towel and handed it to Will.

“I hope you will not mind borrowing some of my clothes,” Hannibal said, casting a sympathetic glance at Will’s own, bloody clothes, “There does not seem to be much of an option.”

Will nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. Hobbs and Abigail hadn’t come inside, and he only then realized that they hadn’t followed him in when Stammets brought him either. Hannibal must have done something.

Hannibal walked to another room, and Will didn’t feel like he should follow any farther, so he waited in the hall.

Hannibal emerged with a set of clothes for Will, and Will accepted them with a brief glance up to offer a grateful smile.

“You protected your house,” he commented softly, trying not to be weird about it.

Hannibal huffed in light amusement, but placed a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“The bathroom is just there,” he said, gesturing, “go wash, and we will talk after.”

Will nodded sheepishly and Hannibal brushed past him to return to the ground floor.

Will looked at the offered clothes once he was securely in the bathroom, with a door between himself and Hannibal. He had been given a tan sweater and a pair of pajama pants with a drawstring. Hannibal had probably decided they would afford the best fit, since their body types were so different.

Will made sure he was free of any bloody residue before he exited the shower. 

He hadn't felt comfortable using the shampoo that had been in there, as it wasn't his own house, but he had used the bar of soap to make sure he got all the sticky blood off of his torso and forearms. He emerged fairly sure the bar had been scented with something, the nearest he could guess was lavender, and he felt odd.

Will was reminded once more of how his shoulders were not very broad as he slipped into the sweater. Hannibal’s frame was so much larger than his own, despite how small the height difference was.

Will bundled his soiled clothes up and tucked them under his arm before he walked downstairs to find Hannibal.

The smell of cooking meat led Will right to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, hoping despite himself to have a few moments to watch before he was noticed.

A slight turn of Hannibal's head and the way his shoulders expanded as he took a deep breath let Will know he had been detected. Hannibal turned fully to face him and Will stared at the other man’s shoulder.

“You look as if you feel better,” Hannibal commented, “I hope that is true. I will wash your clothes if you like.”

Will shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“I don’t feel like I have blood drying on my skin anymore,” he agreed, flexing his hands and wondering exactly how much he was going to say to Hannibal, “but I don't want to inconvenience you. I can do my own laundry once I am home and return your clothes later.”

Hannibal moved about the kitchen and nodded.

“It would be no inconvenience to me, but I understand that you would be more comfortable doing it yourself.”

Will let his eyes fix on Hannibal’s hands as they worked. They seemed to move independently of each other and create things that made Will wonder at their complexity and ornateness. 

“So, you protected your house,” Will said again, letting his eyes flick up to the side of Hannibal’s head.

“I did,” Hannibal said, a slight smile to his voice.

Will raised an eyebrow and sighed.

“You want me to ask,” he said, “and I think quid pro quo has just about gone out the window after today, so you don’t have to tell me if you don't want.”

Hannibal hummed noncommittally. 

“I took protective measures with my house after your first visit. I wish for you to be comfortable here, and you did not give me any instruction not to, as you did with my office. You need places of respite, and I would like to provide at least one. I hope you do not find that presumptuous of me.”

Will quirked a small smile despite himself.

“I guess not. I suppose all of this has to do with your being a psychiatrist,” Will said, “You wanted to protect your office, so I wouldn’t feel haunted while we talked. It only makes sense you would take the opportunity to protect your house, so at least in our unofficial talks I can be more comfortable.”

Hannibal nodded.

“My intentions will always be apparent to you, it seems. Another skill from your forensic training?” Hannibal asked, a pleased note in his tone.

Will's smile fell.

“Uh, no. Actually, I've got a thing. An empathy disorder. I kind of get into people's heads. Sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

Honestly, he hadn't expected to ever tell Hannibal. He thought their interactions would stop after a few cases, or a few sessions, and he would never have to explain how he made connections. Now that Hannibal knew, he expected he wouldn't want to spend any more time around him. People don't like feeling transparent.

“There is no need to apologize,” Hannibal said without missing a beat, “you cannot control who you are by nature. I do wonder if this has any affect on your ability to communicate with and attract spirits.”

Will snapped his head up with a curious frown.

“You're not upset,” he said dumbly.

Hannibal turned to him and tipped his head.

“No, I am not. Having the ability to make connections is not a sin, whether or not others have the same ability. It would be counterproductive to be upset with you for it.”

Will barked a laugh and ran a hand through his hair in relief. He wasn't sure why, but it meant so much more coming from Hannibal than it did from anyone else.

“You're the first person to say that, though I think Alana would if she thought it would help. I can tell you mean it,” Will said, still laughing a bit from the relief.

Hannibal smiled as he finished up the food preparations. He led Will into the dining room and once again set them across from each other. Will sat down, but he felt much more comfortable this time than he had the time before. He relaxed into the seat and only then realized that he had a headache, as it was abating.

“I am always sincere in my dealings with friends,” Hannibal said, a secretive glint in his eye like he was sharing a joke with himself.

The idea that Hannibal considered them friends made Will feel warm. Perhaps Eldon Stammets had got it wrong. He had already managed to make a connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays <3   
I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	12. To Teach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has to deal with some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to write, but I managed to get it done in time to update. It's not as polished as I prefer it to be, but I hope you still enjoy it.

Giving a lecture on the copycat killer proved harder than Will had anticipated. His students were far more interested in his involvement with the capture of the Minnesota Shrike than whomever might have killed a single girl from the mix.

“How did you catch the Shrike? What was the clue?” one of his brighter students, Amelia, asked. 

Will frowned down at his shoes as Hobbs cackled in his ear. Amelia’s honest curiosity poked at his desire to teach, and help their developing minds. He wanted to tell her there was a clue, something that stuck out and led him to the killer. 

“I’m not talking about the Shrike killings today,” he said instead, “I want to know if you can see anything in the way the copycat killer worked. I want to hear any ideas you might have. Every fresh mind we can get on this needs to be focused. I want a detailed analysis from each of you on my desk before next lecture. Thank you.”

He had seen Hannibal and Jack enter during the lesson, but he had tried his best to ignore them. Now that his class was packing up, they approached him.

Will was going back to Minnesota. 

Jack was being pestered the parents of the dead girls, asking for their daughters’ bodies to bury. Will had told Jack repeatedly that there would probably not be anything to be found in the Hobbs house, but Jack had just sighed and asked him to come anyway.

Hannibal was coming too, but Will wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe Jack expected him to have another mental break, and wanted to be prepared. 

Of course, Will didn’t mind having Hannibal there with him, but he really did not want to have anything happen that would make his being there justified.

When they pulled up to the house, Abigail made a desperate sound of agony from the backseat. She buried her head in her hands and Elise set her jaw. Hobbs chuckled through a grimace.

Cannibals. 

The vandals surely didn’t beat about the bush at all. Among the details of the crimes that had made their way to the public was the fact that the victims had been eaten. 

Will was shaking as they exited the vehicle, and Jack pulled up alongside them. Hannibal was watching Will with visible concern, but Will waved him away. Jack watched the small interaction with only mild interest, wanting Will to show them where the bodies were.

“You won’t find anything,” Hobbs said darkly.

Will swallowed hard, pushing forward, feeling like he was wading through a strong current as he walked toward the door. Every move seemed weighted and hindered, though he knew there was nothing physically in his way.

A strong hand landed on his shoulder and Will almost lurched forward when the force of the current dissipated instantly. Hannibal.

Will gave him a curious frown over his shoulder, but nodded in thanks and pressed forward. The going was much easier when he kept his focus on Hannibal’s presence.

Standing in the house, Will could hear the screams he had heard the last time he had been there. Abigail, crying and pleading with her father not to hurt her. Elise, being forced to watch another girl be killed in front of her. Hobbs asking him if he could see everything that they shared. The set of screams that he knew were probably his own.

A deep shiver ran through him as he walked through the halls. Hannibal was behind him, and Jack just a few feet farther back. He was not alone, but he felt as if he were drifting through an empty space, punctuated only by screams of terror.

“My dad’s right,” Abigail said when they stopped in the kitchen. She was staring at the place where she and her father had died, only feet apart. “He never left anything behind. He honored every part of them. He used to make plumbing putty out of elk bones.”

Will stared at her. He had guessed as much, but hearing it from her was bringing him dangerously close to his own despair.

“What did he do with the hair? Their skin?” he asked, the thoughts pricking his tongue like drops of acid.

Abigail’s eyes lit up.

“There is something left behind,” she realized, “I can show you.”

Hobbs growled at her words, but he was staring at Will. Will got the sense that he didn’t mind Abigail telling him as much as he minded the thought of Will defiling his creations. Abigail just shot her father a frown and walked to the living room. 

“You’ll need a knife,” she said, walking to the couch, “Here, in this box. There’s a hunting knife.”

Will had stopped paying attention to his living companions, and walked toward the box. He opened it and found an evidence bag that did indeed contain a knife. He pulled it out and heard an uncomfortable grunt from Jack.

Turning back around, he could see that Jack was standing well away from him, likely thinking of how he had killed a man with nothing but a knife, and how quickly and efficiently he had done it. Hannibal was standing just at the back of the couch, his head tilted and his curious smile pulling at his lips.

“The pillows,” Abigail said, her voice shaking. 

Will picked up a pillow. It was made of deer skin, bound with leather. Without having to ask, he knew what Abigail meant. He used the knife and cut the leather straps, opening the pillow to exposed the stuffing.

Dark hair spilled out around his hands and he heard Elise scream once before falling silent in shock. 

Jack made a call while Will stood there, holding a handful of hair that belonged to a girl he had never met, and who had been killed by the ghost standing behind him. Abigail closed her eyes, a pained expression furrowing her brow as she hugged herself.

“Was he going to do that to me?” Elise sobbed. This was the most vulnerable Will had ever seen her. Even when she had been staring at her own body, she had always held her composure. She had screamed in the Hobbs house, but never cried. “Was he going to make me into a pillow?”

Will looked at her, and his chest hurt. She had had a life to live before all of this happened. All the girls did. Abigail did. Cassie did. All of it ended. He couldn’t fix any of it. All he could do was try to pick up the pieces with his bare hands and let the shards of broken lives stab into his skin and fester. He couldn’t help them any more than this.

“I would have made you into a beautiful pillow,” Hobbs purred, stepping closer to Elise, who flinched away and began sobbing louder, “Your bones would have made fine knives, and maybe some of them would be ground up to use for other things. There are so many uses for bodies, you know. It’s a shame you were already damaged. I am very sorry I couldn’t do that for you.”

Elise curled up on the floor and sobbed to herself as Hobbs grew silent, apparently contemplating how sad it had been to lose Elise. He had truly wanted to do all that for her. Abigail sat on the couch, her eyes glassy and distant as she stared out the window.

“Will.”

Will jumped, looking up to meet Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Are you alright, Will?” Hannibal asked, and Will glimpsed something in his eyes.

Hannibal had tried to explain to Jack that it might not be a good idea to send Will into this place. He had told them how it could affect him psychologically, not to mention that they could not predict the behavior of his specters.

Will offered a pained smile that he knew wouldn’t fool anyone.

“I think I need some fresh air,” he lied.

Hannibal nodded. Will put down the knife and the pillow, brushing his hands off to rid them of the feeling of the hair they had been holding. 

Jack walked back in, putting his phone back in his pocket and staring at Will like he had just insulted his grandmother.

“I’m getting a team in here. Why didn’t we know about the pillows before?”

Will flinched when Hobbs laughed again, very near his ear.

“Why would they have suspected I put them into pillows?” he asked, laughing still.

Will offered a weak smile, which turned to a frown quickly.

“Why would you have suspected he put them in pillows?” Will repeated, feeling like a puppet that only spoke what was dictated through its mouth.

Jack grimaced.

“Jack, I don’t know. I asked, and Abigail told me. What more do you need?” Will offered, trying to focus through the sounds of Hobbs’ laughter and Elise’s sobbing.

Jack shook his head.

“I think it would be beneficial for Will to get some fresh air, just now,” Hannibal told Jack gently.

Jack looked Will up and down, and he must have looked worse than he thought, because he nodded.

“Doctor Lecter, go with him if you would. Take a breather before the team gets here.”

Hannibal nodded and walked around the couch to meet Will and walk with him to the nearest door.

Once they were outside, Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could hear the rustling of leaves in a breeze, and the autumn leaves on the ground rustled melodically.

“I have heard it said that nature is a cleanser for spiritual things,” Hannibal said. His tone was casual and conversational, his eyes not on Will, but on the tree line.

Will nodded.

“For some people,” he agreed, “then there are some where only a church helps, some where it's a specific room in their house. It depends on the person or object, but I assumed you were talking more about people.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I wonder that there are not more spirits about this house,” Hannibal thought aloud.

Will nodded again, looking down the small hill they were standing on. 

“The girls weren't killed here,” he supplied by way of answer, “he had a place for where he did all that to them,” he tipped his head toward the house, “but Elise was killed in her house. He probably killed the rest of them near their homes, or somewhere they were staying as well.”

“Spirits are somewhat mobile,” Hannibal pointed out and Will shrugged.

“I hope they didn't all follow Hobbs around like Elise did. No one should have to witness what was done to them, against their will.”

Will felt it before he saw it and he stiffened.

“Hannibal,” he said without thinking.

Hannibal saw his frightened state and furrowed his brow in concern.

“What do you see,Will?” 

Will was frozen for a moment before the words cut through his fear and he quickly checked all his pockets.

“I need salt. I need salt and a pen. This is one spirit I can't let get to me, especially now. I need salt.”

His rambling was almost incomprehensible, but Hannibal seemed to understand. He pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to Will before taking him by the arm and pulling him toward the house.

Will quickly scrawled some fresh signs of protection over the veins on his wrist with the black ink. Hannibal released him at the doorway, which Will was grateful for. He did not want to bring the spirit inside.

Hannibal walked back out with a shaker of salt that must have come from the kitchen. He was followed by Elise and Abigail, who gave Will some concerned looks as he carefully laid out a circle of salt around himself.

The stag walked up to the line of salt and chuffed unhappily. Will's hair blew away from his face in the breath, and he knew Hannibal would have seen it. Will spoke some incantations under his breath, silently praying Hannibal wouldn't think he was crazy after all of this.

“Will. What is it?” Elise asked nervously.

Will waved her away, trying to focus on the task at hand. Will heard Jack call for him from inside the house, and Hannibal go to stop him. The stag pawed at the ground impatiently, dipping its head. The long, sharp antlers grazed Will's cheek, making him flinch. He felt the slow drip of blood down to his jaw, but he didn't stop his quiet mumbling. 

“Will!” Elise yelped when she saw the blood, “there has to be something we can do to help.”

Will shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the massive creature in front of him. He felt Hobbs walk out of the house and around to his side. Will felt a slowly building pressure in his head, and knew it would become painful soon enough.

Hobbs cackled.

“I knew you were the same. You can't keep it out forever. Why don't you just let it take you?”

Will had to stop talking for fear of saying the wrong words, and he grit his teeth together. He tried to block out the words being said and focus on what needed to be done. One moment of distraction could-

“Will!”

Elise shouted as Abigail ran forward and tried to tackle the beast. Will jumped in surprise, but didn't have a chance to tell her not to. 

Her hands sank into the mane of feathers and stuck like tar. Abigail tried to pull her hands away, but they stuck fast and her skin started turning grey up her arms.

Her eyes turned to Will with panic.

“Will,” she said, sinking to her knees as her hands came free. Her skin was growing darker and she shook with fear as she fell.

Elise started toward Abigail, but Will held out a hand.

“Don't move,” he choked out.

Elise froze, watching in horror as Abigail grew antlers from her skull and her hair turned to feathers. Her eyes glossed over with obsidian black, and her fingers elongated to where they were almost claws.

Will sank to his own knees within his circle. He had failed to protect Abigail for the second time. She would never let him forget it either.

Abigail turned her black eyes toward him and spoke with a voice that rang in several tones. It would have reminded Will of a woodland fairy or other mystical being if not for the harsh edge to the words.

“Abigail Hobbs is dead. Long live Abigail Hobbs.”


	13. To Protect

Hobbs walked toward his daughter with a wide grin. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Will only half expected him to also transform into a nightmare, but he knew better. Hobbs had been one of his nightmares from the beginning. 

The stag was pacing around Will, testing the integrity of his circle. The beast loomed over him from his place on his knees. It had always been large, but now it seemed overpoweringly massive. 

Suddenly, the stag stopped in its tracks. Its solid black eyes fixed on something outside of Will’s eyesight and it took a step backwards. It seemed skittish, almost. Intimidated.

“Will.”

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Will looked up. Hannibal stood over him, his face set with determination. He almost glowed with protective power, and Will felt the spirits retreat. Even Elise took a step away from them.

“Hannibal,” Will choked. He was surprised beyond his ability to understand, seeing the other man there by his side.

“Come,” Hannibal said, extending his hands. 

Will stared at the hands for a moment, almost not believing what his eyes were telling him. Then, he took them and Hannibal helped him to his feet. Will was careful to stay within the salt circle as he stood, but his mind was working overtime.

“Is is safe for you to come away?” Hannibal asked softly, searching to meet Will’s eyes.

Will snapped his gaze to meet the warm maroon eyes of his psychiatrist. His headache dispersed and his head felt clear. He smiled.

“Yes. It’s safe, but only if you don’t leave.”

A touch of amusement passed through Hannibal’s eyes, along with interest and curiosity. He nodded, keeping one hand on Will’s elbow as he stepped over the line. 

The stag chuffed and grunted in frustration, dancing on its hooves as it wished to force itself closer to Will, but couldn’t get near Hannibal. Will clutched at the fabric of Hannibal’s blazer around his arm and grinned at the sight of the hesitant spirit.

“Thank god you repel spirits,” Will sighed, “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a psychiatrist.”

Hannibal huffed a laugh and smiled lightly.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?” 

Will was almost shaking with relief and pent up stress. His mind was clear, but running at a hundred miles an hour, and he couldn’t grasp any single thought.

“I don’t know,” he said, his words shaking with hysterical laughter as his flesh rose in goosebumps, “Whatever you do, stay with me.”

Hannibal seemed amused by his words, smiling as he spoke.

“Where else would I go?”

Jack walked out of the house and stared at Will, bleeding and rumpled, clinging to Hannibal.

“What the hell just happened here?” he demanded.

Will swallowed hard, glancing at the malevolent spirits that would haunt him from this day until he died. 

“I can’t stay here, Jack,” he said, pleading, “I need to get somewhere I can protect, and wait out these things. I’m not safe here, and that could put you in danger.”

Jack frowned, furrowing his brow further and seeming altogether nonplussed. Will remembered that Jack had never really been told the true extent of his ability, especially regarding the dangers involved.

“Does Doctor Lecter need to accompany you to this safe place?” Jack asked, pointedly glancing at Will’s clutching hand.

Will looked at Hannibal guiltily, not wanting to drag him into this, but knowing he had no other option.

“Yeah. He can come back as soon as I’m secured in a safe place, but I need him to come with me. He is the only person I have ever seen spirits refuse to approach.”

Jack huffed unhappily and waved a hand to them as he walked back into the house.

“Do what you have to do. I want a full explanation when I see you next, and Doctor Lecter needs to be able to leave you alone sometimes, Will. Make sure that’s an option.”

Will stared down at the grass and nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at either man, feeling overwhelmingly guilty at being the source of the problem they now had to fix. Hannibal walked him back to the cars and Will sat silently as Hannibal drove them away from the house. He watched out of the window as the stag followed, trotting lazily at speeds matching the car. 

Will knew without looking that Elise would be sitting in the back seat. She was terrified, but she knew he was the only one who could offer an explanation.

Hannibal allowed them to drive in silence, making Will feel like he was taking advantage of his good nature. Hannibal deserved an explanation as much as Elise did, and Will couldn’t let the drive pass without offering it.

“It’s my fault,” Will admitted, keeping his gaze out the window rather than watch his companion react to his words, “The spirits. They aren’t all coming from an outside source.”

Hannibal did not respond, allowing Will to continue if he wished. Will hated putting him in this situation.

“There has been one, for a long time now, that has followed me. It isn’t from anyone who died. It’s from me. It’s the part of me that I can never let myself accept. If I let it get to me, I will lose control. I can’t guarantee the safety of anyone if that were to happen.”

Hannibal hummed in agreement.

“You have too much dark in your head to allow it to take over,” he noted, “You cannot guarantee which killer you have allowed in would decide to become the main decision maker in your head, so you must be constantly vigilant to be sure that does not happen.”

Will nodded.

“I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world,” he said.

Hannibal huffed a quiet laugh.

“You cannot drag me if I am walking in willingly, but I am glad for the company,” he said.

Will wanted to have the energy to feel angry at Hannibal’s good nature. If Hannibal were upset with him, he would have been able to feel like his words and actions were justified, and absorbed them, let them make their mark and feel better for being at the end of justified feelings. He didn’t deserve to have someone act so understanding toward him.

They pulled up to the motel and Hannibal walked with Will to the door. Will resisted the desperate urg in him to cling to the other man like he had at the Hobbs house, instead digging his fingertips into his own arms and staring at the ground in front of him.

Once they were inside, Will gave Elise an apologetic look before beginning. He took the supplies out of his duffel bag and began the process of protecting the room. Hannibal watched, staying near, clearly curious. Will wondered what process he had used to protect his own house.

“You can probably leave now,” Will said once the spirits were all outside the room, and a safe distance away, “I can finish without you. Jack will want you back.”

Hannibal tipped his head in a small shrug.

“I don’t expect Jack to know how soon to expect me back. If you have no objections to it, I think I would like to ask you a few questions about what happened.”

Will swallowed, nodding jerkily. 

“I owe you an explanation. Go ahead and sit while I finish, and ask me whatever you want.”

Hannibal nodded and took a seat in one of the old, wooden chairs in the room.

“What is it you saw?” He asked, his tone calm and friendly, but curious.

Will walked around the perimeter of the room, muttering and laying out salt.

“I saw what I have always seen. It has haunted me for as long as I can remember. A great, black stag. It has a mane of feathers, and antlers that would put any live creature to shame. It has always been the same.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Quite literally a ghost from your past. It has the physical ability to harm you,” he noted, casting a glance to the cut on Will’s cheek. 

Will raised a hand to it, feeling the crusted blood that followed his jawline and part of his neck. He probably looked terrible.

“Yeah. It does,” he said numbly, sitting down now that he had finished the process, “It doesn’t always utilize that ability, but maybe it doesn’t always have it.”

Hannibal stood and walked to the bathroom, not commenting on what he was doing. Will knew.

He returned with a damp paper towel and moved his chair over so he was sitting right next to Will. Will stared at him as Hannibal lifted a hand to his chin and tilted his head before he began to gently clean the blood off of his face and away from the cut.

“Do you have any theories as to why it has this ability, even if only occasionally?” Hannibal asked, his voice softer now that he was so close.

Will swallowed, feeling warm in the close proximity.

“Maybe it’s because it’s technically part of me. The other spirits can’t directly hurt or touch me, but this isn’t from outside of me, so it might just have a different set of rules.”

Hannibal nodded, trailing the towel down his chin and along his jaw, being careful not to let his scruff shred the paper and catch the pieces.

“How did the other spirits react to its presence?” 

Will winced at the memory, his heart sinking in his chest.

“Abigail and Elise wanted to help me,” he said, choking on the words, “Abigail tried. I couldn’t stop her. When she touched the stag, she turned into something else. She’s like it now. She isn’t Abigail anymore.”

Hannibal nodded, putting the bloodied towel on the table next to them and letting his hands fall into his lap.

“And Garrette Jacob Hobbs?”

Will bit his lip, staring at his own blood on the towel.

“He taunted me. He knows what it is. He knows that it’s me. He told Abigail she’s beautiful.”

Hannibal nodded once.

“I regret that I was unable to save her,” he said.

Will looked up at him, feeling a deep, sharp pain.

“I failed to save her twice,” he said, “I have watched her die twice. I haven’t been able to protect anyone. It’s my fault this happened.”

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, making Will relax from just a touch alone.

“Will. This is not your fault. You have saved my life, and the lives of many people who do not even know they would have been in danger. I owe you my life, and you mustn't waste that. I do not take these things lightly.”

Will looked into his maroon eyes and believed it.


	14. To Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the Hobbs household

Hannibal was with Will, matching his every step as they came up to the door of the cabin. The presence of the other man gave Will an inexplicable boost of confidence, giving him the ability to walk forward into the den of a monster. 

Else was still shaken after what had happened the day before, but she followed them up. The beasts stayed back, unable to approach Will against Hannibal's presence. 

The main floor was clean, bordering on sterile. Will looked around, picturing Hobbs telling his daughter that his excessive habits were to defend against germs. He destroyed any evidence he could, defending himself against the consequences of his crimes.

Will saw how Elise's eyes flicked toward the stairs. Jack had told him about the room of antlers. He hadn't been brought here before, but he knew what he would find. Nightmares had been a common side effect of his abilities since before he started working with the FBI, and they usually proved uncomfortably informative.

In the room of antlers, stood a girl.

She looked like the others, and Will was sorry to see her there. He had hoped none of them would have come this far. She stood, staring at the bloodied antlers, seeming to be waiting for Hobbs to come back with another victim.

Will spread his hands, hoping to look friendly and safe.

“Hello,” he said, drawing the surprised gaze of the girl, “can I ask for your name?”

The girl blinked at him and took a shaky breath that didn't move any of the air in the room.

“You can see me,” she stated.

Will nodded.

“I'm here to help. The man who did this is dead. I'm here to do whatever I can to help you.”

The girl smiled, a single tear falling down her face.

“I'm Diana Latimer,” she said, answering his question and wiping her face with the back of one hand. 

Number three, Will remembered. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, distinguishing herself from Elise and Abigail in her physical appearance. She must have seen so much since her death.

“I'm so sorry,” Will said, taking a step toward her, “I can imagine how hard this has been for you.”

Her face turned to a grimace and hot anger flashed in her eyes.

“No you can't,” she accused, “how could you possibly understand anything about this?”

Will sighed. He understood how she felt. He could feel it too. He had spent his entire life understanding against his will.

“You watched yourself die,” he said calmly, “you watched him take you apart and use every part. You had to listen as he spoke of his diseased love for you, and his distorted ideas of honor. Then, after all of that, you were stuck here, unable to do anything to stop him as he did the same to other girls. You couldn't be heard, you couldn't be seen, and you couldn't touch or be touched. I know, and I understand. Let me help you.”

Diana's eyes grew wide with horror and relief. Her entire form sagged with exhaustion.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed.

Her frame shook as she cried, and Will knew it was the first time she had allowed herself to cry since her death. She had steeled herself in anger and tried to change her own circumstances.

Will could feel her presence, and she was not attaching to him. Maybe Hannibal's presence was discouraging it, but Will was glad. 

“He has a daughter,” Diana choked out, “she was helping him.”

Will nodded, swallowing against the images of Abigail's beast behind his eyelids.

“she's dead too,” he said.

“Good,” Diana snapped venomously, “she was the bait. They both deserved to die.”

Elise stepped forward, then, her hands balled into fists.

“If your dad was crazy, and said he was killing other girls so he wouldn't kill you, you would probably do things you would regret,” she snapped, “she didn't like it. She hated it. She has been trying to protect me and Will ever since she died. Don't disrespect her.”

Elise and Abigail hadn't been very close at any point, but Will could see how much it pained her to hear Abigail being attacked in such a way. 

“Elise,” Will said, trying to keep her calm, “Please.”

Elise turned to him, her chin trembling with anger, but she nodded and stepped back.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. You are angry. You feel despair. You don’t know what to do now. I understand. I want to help you.”

Diana took a deep breath, steadying her nerves and fixed Will with a cold stare.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, “He’s dead. Thanks. I don’t need anything else from you other than to get her out of here.”

Her pointed look at Elise made the other girl set her jaw furiously, but Will nodded.

“I understand. I don’t live around here, and I don’t know of anyone else who can see you, so if you need anything at all, you have to ask before I leave. I don’t think I’ll be coming back here.”

Diana waved her hand, turning away from him to stare back at the set of antlers that was stained with blood.

“No thank you,” she said.

Will nodded, though she couldn’t see it and turned back to Hannibal.

Hannibal was smiling, which sent a shock through Will’s body. He hadn’t expected to see him smile after all that. He had almost forgotten that Hannibal was there with him while he talked to the girl, but he had not expected to be met with a smile.

“Uh, she wants us to leave, and I don’t think there is anything I can do to help here,” Will said, gesturing behind him. Then he turned to Elise. “I need you to come with me and leave her alone. She doesn’t want us here.”

Elise nodded, casting a few more curiously angry glances back over her shoulder. They all descended the stairs together, and Will was left wondering why in the world Hannibal had smiled at him.

Jack was waiting for them at the bottom. He looked at Will expectantly, but Will didn’t know what he wanted to hear.

“Uh, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help here, Jack,” Will said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and staring at the floor, “There isn’t anything up there that you haven’t found. He didn’t keep any part of them here.”

Jack huffed, but nodded, flicking his eyes between Hannibal and Will. He clearly wasn’t very happy with their unspoken agreement to stay near each other in places of danger. 

Will wasn’t sure when or if Hannibal was going to deem him safe enough to be by himself in unprotected spaces again, but he was beginning to enjoy the company. It was like walking into the world with a personal bodyguard. Will felt a bit guilty for being glad he was around. Hannibal had his own life, and didn’t need to be worried about him.

“I think it’s time for you to leave Minnesota,” Jack said.

Will couldn’t have agreed more. Everything about this place was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and it was only a matter of time before Hannibal would have to leave his side and leave him unprotected. 

“I think so too,” Will said, glancing to Hannibal, who was nodding in agreement.

“I think it has been rather detrimental to Will’s health to be here,” Hannibal said, “The sooner he is home and away from this place, the better for all of us.”

Will smiled, ducking his head to stare at his shoes. Hannibal didn’t have a problem telling Jack what he thought. Will was glad he seemed to be on his side.


	15. To Have

Will pulled up to his house and had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut. He saw Mara standing near the porch, watching his approach. Hobbs was breathing near his ear, and the sound gave him chills. Gustin was standing near the tree, and for once he didn’t stalk over to needle Will the moment he stepped out of the car.

The stag was at Will’s elbow as he walked up to the steps of the porch, and Abigail was to his other side. 

Will felt like he was walking through cold tar, feeling it tearing at his flesh and letting him sink deep into it.

“What have you done?” Mara asked, her small, quiet voice piping up for the first time in more than a year.

Will turned to look at her, feeling tears well up in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, for everything,” Will said, and it was all he could say. He couldn’t make himself meet her eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the pain that had been there since the day she had died. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes at the knowledge that he had failed to protect another person who had only had him. He couldn’t make himself do it.

Once Will reached the door, he opened it and let all the dogs pour out around his legs. He smiled and watched them, deciding to leave the door propped open for them as he went in. It wasn’t like anything really dangerous would be able to come in.

Will checked his fridge, and realized he had nothing to eat. Nothing good anyway. He sighed and put on some coffee. 

Hannibal would be so disappointed in him. He was letting himself go hungry again, drinking coffee as his only sustenance. Maybe he had a bagel in the cupboards.

Will dug around a bit more and found some bread that he used to make toast. It was fine, but he thought back to the meals he had shared with Hannibal. Hannibal probably didn’t ever let himself settle for something so mundane and bland. His was a life full of color and flavor. 

The coffee was low quality too, making Will sigh in resignation.

\---

Will was putting away papers after his lecture, and he heard quiet footsteps walk through the door. Jack wouldn’t bother walking quietly, and Alana’s heels would have clicked. Beverly might be coming to see him about something, but she didn’t usually bother walking quietly either, unless she thought Will was going to act skittish. 

It must be Hannibal, then, but Will didn’t know why he would be there.

Will looked up and saw that it was indeed Hannibal. He was standing quietly, seeming content to watch in silence for the time.

“Can I help you, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked, trying not to sound as curious as he was. 

“If I can help you, then that would ease my mind,” Hannibal replied, “I have been worried that you are not well, after what you experienced in Minnesota.”

Will nodded, swallowing.

“My house is still protected, and I guess the spirits don’t have much power right now, because they haven’t tried anything yet. They aren’t being too much of a bother, but thank you for your concern.”

Hannibal smiled, and Will looked back down at his desk to shuffle things around more.

“I was not merely speaking of your safety concerning the spirits,” Hannibal clarified, walking up to the desk casually, “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Will wet his lips and stilled his hands on the desk.

“Honestly, I am afraid to leave my house very much,” he confessed, “I don’t know when they will get their power back, but I don’t want to have a breakdown, or worse, while I’m standing in a grocery store. I haven’t been doing very well.”

Hannibal nodded.

“You have not been eating well,” he surmised, “and sleep eludes you. Is there any way you would like me to help?”

Will sighed. He could think of a lot of things he would like for Hannibal to do that would help him, but none of them were things he was comfortable asking of the man.

“I could use some company,” Will offered weakly, looking up and meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

Hannibal seemed to understand, and nodded lightly.

“I think I should feed you,” he said, stepping around the desk and laying a gentle hand on Will’s arm, “Would that suffice, to start?”

Will felt his chest flutter in awkward anticipation which he didn’t entirely understand. He nodded, dropping his gaze down to Hannibal’s tie. It was dark blue with large pink and yellow flowers patterned over it.

Will finished packing his things and Hannibal left ahead of him. That served a dual purpose, as it would give Hannibal time to prepare and then Will would have his car when it was time for him to go home.

Will tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he drove. 

“Are you going to ask why he smiled when you were talking to that dead girl in the cabin?” Elise asked.

Will frowned at her in the mirror.

“I might, but you don’t have to act like there’s something wrong with him.”

Elise huffed.

“Normal people are freaked out by watching people die, or seeing people talk to ghosts,” she said, “something isn’t right about him. I don’t like him.”

Will sighed.

“It seems that no ghosts like him, which is a good thing for me. I can finally find some peace of mind when he’s around.”

Elise shrugged and sat in silence for the rest of the drive. She stayed in the car when they arrived, knowing she would not be able to accompany Will into the house. The stag was in the yard as Will walked up, and Abigail stood next to it, stroking her hand through its feathers. 

Hannibal opened the door and smiled. He was wearing his apron, with his sleeves rolled up. He looked soft, and Will felt the intense urge to brush the fringe of hair from his face.

“I really hope you aren’t inconvenienced by all of this,” Will said, stepping inside, “I really don’t like asking you for favors.”

Hannibal set his hand on the small of Will’s back and led him to the kitchen. Will felt very warm, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“I do hope you will stop thinking you are an inconvenience,” Hannibal said, “I enjoy your company, and I truly wish to help you in whatever way I can.”

Will smiled. He nodded, keeping his eyes on Hannibal’s shoes as he made his way across the floor and to the counters. Hannibal moved about, fixing a meal that already smelled amazing, and Will remembered how he had wanted to eat here again.

“I guess I just want to make sure you know you don’t have to do this for me,” Will offered.

Hannibal walked over to him and set his hand on the table next to him. He was facing Will and Will could feel his eyes soft on his cheek.

“You are afraid of thinking for your own happiness,” Hannibal said, “All of your life, and your abilities, are focused on others. You feel selfish if you ever cannot do as others want of you.”

Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to turn and look into Hannibal’s maroon eyes and feel better for it, but he worried about what he might do then. Hannibal was standing so close.

“When I am selfish, bad things happen,” Will said, trying not to see all the bad things that had happened because of him, “I have to make up for the times I’ve let bad things happen.”

Hannibal shifted his weight, bringing him just that much closer to Will, to the point where Will could feel his body next to him.

“You owe the world nothing, Will. The world gave you these abilities, and you let them be a curse. If the world has cursed you, then you need not work to gain its approval.”

Will pulled away from Hannibal, opening his eyes and staring at the counter as he walked toward the dining room a bit. He stopped near the doorway and turned back, staring once again at Hannibal’s shoes.

“I don’t know if I can ascribe to that way of thinking,” Will admitted, folding his arms to soothe himself.

Hannibal nodded and walked back to the counter and continued his food preparations. 

“I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable, Will. I had hoped my observations would provide you some help.”

Will shook his head.

“It’s not because of you. I guess lack of sleep and nutrition is making me jumpy,” Will offered.

Hannibal nodded. 


	16. To Hold

Will was finally feeling a bit relaxed as he sat back on the couch and accepted the glass of wine Hannibal offered him. Hannibal stood by the fireplace with his own, posing a perfect figure in the low light.

“Why did you smile, that day?” Will asked, “in the cabin, when I talked to that dead girl.”

Hannibal turned to him, his features reflecting golden firelight. He nodded slightly, as if having expected that question.

“I fear my answer may make you uncomfortable,” Hannibal answered, stepping closer to where Will sat.

Will took a gulp of wine and shrugged. 

“Well, with that information, would you be content to let my imagination take the reins?” Will asked.

Hannibal laughed quietly, taking another step toward Will.

“Perhaps not,” He said, “There may be unfortunate consequences if I allow you to develop a guess without my input.”

Hannibal sat down, placing one hand on the back of the couch and his hips turned so his torso was facing Will completely.

“I find your mind delectably enchanting, and would spend the rest of my life doing nothing but observing you if I could. I find everything about you as endearing as the rest, and I want to preserve your happiness when it can be found.”

Will felt a nervous flutter in his stomach, but his hands didn’t shake like he thought they would. He stared at Hannibal’s lips, unable to drag his gaze up further. 

“That day, as I watched you speak with that girl, I could see the noble nature of your heart. I could see the true extent of your abilities, and it was mesmerizing. You can slip easily into the mind of another, and see and feel as they do. There are mirrors in your mind, that you only allow to reflect the minds of killers and victims. You work to maintain peace when you can, and you are afraid of what your own mind has to offer.”

Hannibal set his glass down on a side table. He turned back to Will and ducked his head slightly, locking their gazes together.

His eyes caught the light of the fire like drops of gold among black, and Will was frozen. He felt his heart beating in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears and fingers. Hannibal was serious. Everything he was saying was true. There was more, there, under the layer of cautious politeness, that Hannibal wasn’t saying.

“What else?” Will asked, surprising himself with the question.

Hannibal smiled softly. He was slowly, almost invisibly, moving closer to Will. Will had the opportunity to tell him to stop, or move away, but he didn’t.

“Since the day I met you I was fascinated, fixated. Since the day you saved my life I have loved you,” Hannibal confessed, not sounding at all like a confession. These were sacred facts that flowed from his tongue like a prayer.

Will didn’t have a chance to fully absorb those words before his lips were captured in a gentle kiss when Hannibal leaned forward. Will felt like his heart would explode, but he clutched at the front of Hannibal’s suit like if he let go he would be lost. Hannibal tasted like the wine they had been drinking and the dinner they had shared. 

Flashes of memories pelted the inside of Will’s skull, causing him to gasp.

Cold. Deathly cold winter trapped in a cabin. Terrible men. Mischa. Then she was gone. The orphanage. Escaping. France. 

Hannibal had pulled away slightly, looking at Will with concern.

“Will, is something wrong?” Hannibal asked.

Will blinked away the images of blood dripping onto snow and a bathtub bubbling on a stove.

“I don’t think so,” Will said, shaking his head, “Not anymore. I think I just saw something of your past.”

Hannibal closed his eyes, smiling and pressing their foreheads together.

“Remarkable man,” He whispered, “I shall never be able to predict you. Tell me what you saw?”

Will swallowed, pulling Hannibal closer by the grip he still had on his suit.

“You were so cold,” He said, feeling a lump form in his throat at the thought, “You were deathly cold. Mischa. You tried to protect her. The terrible bubbling bathtub on th-”

Will was cut off when Hannibal kissed him again. He could see the medical school in France. He could see the terrible man in his little restaurant, with his daughter. He saw the others, trying to kill him for fear of their lives. Canada, where the last one had waited unknowing.

“You killed them,” Will gasped when they parted, “Because of Mischa. They deserved it.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I did. If I could have the company of any ghost, I would choose Mischa. I would not be haunted by her, but comforted by her presence. She did not deserve to die.”

“What about the others?” Will asked.

Hannibal frowned, but Will pulled him into another kiss before he could answer.

The couples in Florence, made to resemble the painting Hannibal had seen so often in the gallery. The tableus Hannibal had made in the states. The people who had been rude and died for it.

“Did they deserve to die?” Will asked.

Hannibal closed his eyes, breathing shallowly.

“By whose rules do you think I operate?” He asked calmly.

Will sighed.

“No one’s but your own,” he answered, “you did it as a way to improve the world. Of all the atrocities in this world, the one you cannot tolerate is those who are needlessly inconsiderate of each other.”

Hannibal seized Will’s lips with renewed intensity, their bodies pressing together on the couch. Will felt his back press into the cushion as his body was maneuvered sideways and Hannibal fully pressed against him.

“You don’t repel spirits like I thought. Not any of those. You didn’t repel them, you devoured them. You ate them and their spirits were devoured by yours.”

The stag had come in. Will didn’t know how, but it was there, behind him. The antlers were cutting deep gouges into his back and shoulders. It hurt, but something was poisonously good about the feeling.

“You’re bleeding,” Hannibal mumbled into Will’s mouth.

Will hummed in reply.

“I’m beginning to accept the darker part of me,” Will said.


	17. To Keep

Will entered his house, arms full of groceries that Hannibal had told him would be able to be made into proper meals. The dogs sniffed at him a bit more than usual, but they quickly lost interest and milled about distractedly. 

Mara was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Will with concern. 

“What have you done?” She asked, shaking her head sadly.

Will hummed casually.

“I don’t need to be afraid of monsters anymore,” Will answered, “Monsters should be afraid of me.”

Mara stared at him sadly as he put the groceries away, but Will felt better than he could remember. He wasn’t afraid. For once in his life, he knew he didn’t need to be afraid. He was the master of his own actions now, and it felt amazing.

Gustin hadn’t come near Will since Abigail had changed, and Will was glad of it. Will didn’t have to worry about him if he just decided to leave him alone. Elise was not so considerate.

“That thing ruined Abigail,” She accused, “And you told me not to let it touch me. You told me it was the bad part of you, and you couldn’t let it get to you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She was shouting, and Will wasn’t really happy about all of this either, so he sighed and turned to her.

“Listen, Elise. What would I have done, when I found out about Hannibal, if I couldn’t accept who he is? He might have killed me. He didn’t tell me what he is, but I found out. That makes me a danger to him. He could have killed me. Easily. I couldn’t let him think I didn’t accept him, but the moment I knew that, I had to accept me. I am not going around killing anyone. I’m not a monster. I’m still me.”

Elise set her jaw, clearly not satisfied.

“I told you something was wrong with him,” She reminded him, “If you had listened to me, you would never have gotten into that situation. What is wrong with you?”

Will rubbed his face. He was suddenly exhausted.

“Elise. I know you don’t agree with me, but I don’t know how to undo what I have done. I am what I am,” He said, shrugging.

Elise huffed and stalked over to stand next to Mara.

“Weren’t you trying to protect people like her?” Elise asked, “so you wouldn’t have more blood on your hands?”

Will snapped.

“Yeah. A lot of good that did Abigail. I couldn’t protect her from her father, and if I had accepted the beast before, she might still be herself, at least in death. My denial never did her any good. What good did it do for you?”

Elise pursed her lips before she turned and walked out of the house. Mara watched him in silence for a moment before she followed. 

Will slumped onto his couch and put his head in his hands.

In the moment, everything had seemed so simple. He loved Hannibal, and Hannibal was a monster. Will became a monster to be with him. Nothing else had crossed his mind. Now, reality began falling down around him like a burning building.

If he tried, could he separate the beast from himself again? Did he even want to try? He knew he wouldn’t. He still wanted Hannibal, and the beast was what gave him the power to be with him. He would sacrifice what he must. 

He needed to be selfish for once.

\---

Will’s house looked decent for once in his time living there, and he liked it. It wasn’t ever going to be as pristine or fancy as Hannibal’s house, but it was nice. 

Hobbs was making himself at home in Will's kitchen, inspecting each of the knives as if planning out how he might use them each. His daughter was acting more like a stereotypical ghost than anyone else, disappearing and reappearing at random, startling him and the dogs, and generally causing mischief. Will was beginning to become frustrated with her.

Will straightened at the sound of tires pulling up to his house. Hannibal was there.

When steps came up the front steps and up to the door, Will pulled it open with a smile. Hannibal returned the expression, stepping in at Will's invitation and pressing a kiss to his forehead. The intimacy made Will's smile stretch into a grin. 

Hannibal walked in, but paused near the door of the kitchen. He was staring directly at Hobbs, and Will's eyes widened.

“What do you see?” He asked, sounding desperate, but not caring.

Hannibal's voice was low and quiet when he answered.

“It's a specter of Garrette Jacob Hobbs. He has bullet wounds and eyes of death. He seems to be going through your cutlery.”

Will wanted to cry in relief.

“You can see him. Of course, there were times I wasn't sure he was real, but oh you can see him. God, I love you.”

That caught Hannibal's attention, and he turned to Will, prepared to reply. Will cut off any words he might have said by pulling hard on his tie until their lips clashed together. 

Still, every time they kissed, Will got flashes of images from Hannibal's past. It was almost intoxicating. Images of art galleries and cathedrals. Will wanted to see them with his own eyes, someday, but he loved seeing them through Hannibal's.

When they parted, Hannibal was smiling curiously.

“Apparently this is a two way transfer of information,” he said, “I'm pleasantly surprised by this development. I wonder how far it extends.”

Will kissed him again.

“If it makes me any less sticky, then I'm in,” he said, “unless it means they can hurt you.”

Will suddenly grew worried, thinking about if the spirits might be able to hurt Hannibal. He might deserve it, Will thought, but he selfishly refused to let go of this man. There was only him, now.

Abigail brushed up behind him, her feathers scratching the back of his neck and causing his skin to chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this fic is also coming to an end. I knew from the start this one would be shorter than some of my others, and honestly, it's longer than I expected it to be.


	18. To Defend

Will knew he looked scared. Hannibal could see Abigail, and Will knew he would realize what was causing Will to worry.

As Abigail made her way around Will, toward Hannibal, she tutted. Her voice retained its loud, echoing reverberations, and Will froze.

“Well, you really do have a talent for the monsters,” she said, looking Hannibal up and down with her obsidian eyes, “both those you create and those you discover. I wonder which this is.”

Hannibal tipped his head, absolutely fixated on Abigail.

“Will both discovered and changed me,” he answered, his tone serious, but affectionate, “which are you?”

Abigail tipped her own head, apparently equally intrigued.

“My father created me once. Will Graham abandoned me to my own creation after he discovered me.”

“Enough!” Will shouted, waving his hand angrily. 

He was done with her. She had been helpful to him, but he hadn't been able to protect her. He had cared about her, but he had failed her. He was new, and he couldn't keep having her there.

At his outburst, Abigail scattered as if she were only a shadow suspended on dust. Will felt her presence stop, and it was like he could breathe clearly for the first time in his life.

When he turned back to Hannibal, Will was pulled into a desperate kiss. Hannibal pulled him close and seemed to breathe Will's air from his lungs. The sensation was beyond intoxicating, and Will knew he would never let this man go.

“I didn't know I could do that,” Will laughed, his forehead pressed to Hannibal's, “I guess I don't really have to worry about them anymore. At least not her. I don't know how to do it again.”

Hannibal looked into the kitchen and smiled.

“I think your unwanted guests received your message,” he said.

Will followed his gaze, and saw that Hobbs was gone. He froze. He looked back to Hannibal. He ran to the back door.

Looking out, he couldn't see a single spirit. Gustin was gone. Hobbs was gone. Mara was gone. Elise was gone.

Will began laughing, and he couldn't stop. Tears ran down his face from relief, and he turned and sat on the floor. He was too weak to walk, or even continue to stand.

“They're gone,” he laughed, “all of them. Every single spirit has left, and I can finally have peace.”

Hannibal smiled, still standing near the kitchen.

“If you would like some time alone, now that you can be, I can come back another time.”

Will gained his strength immediately and all but tackled Hannibal to the ground. His hands on Hannibal's arms, pinning him down and straddling him, Will breathed heavily.

“Don't you dare. Who are we having for dinner?”

Hannibal grinned up at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the journey. This was mostly an experimental fic, so all feedback is awesome.
> 
> Check the comments for a link to an amazing piece of art by Willisacinnamonroll. It's absolutely fantastic, and you should all look at it.


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